Don't You Worry
by Potato19
Summary: Years after the death of his mother, Alex Potter finds a journal of letters written to him, detailing Harry and Hermione's journey into parenthood.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Harry Potter Universe. No copyright infringement intended.

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AN: The story is set in 2032, and is focused mainly around the OC, Alex Potter. It's not a typical love story, but a story of how a son comes to understand his father by seeing him through his mother's eyes.

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 **I**

There was no sound of music.

That was the first thing he noticed when he stepped through the doors of the _old_ new house, intent on officially calling it a day and curling up with his wife in front of the television.

But there was no music. There was _always_ music.

Alex Potter stepped through the front door and gently shut it behind him. As quietly as he could, he set his shoulder bag down and drew his wand. Silence was never a good sign in this Potter house.

"Kate?" he called out, gripping his wand tighter as he stalked through the entrance hall. "Kate? Honey, are you home?" Alex had to bypass several still-unpacked boxes as he moved further into the house. "Kate?"

"Up here."

Alex's eyes snapped upwards and he spotted his wife at the top of the stairs. She was dressed in baggy sweat pants and his Quidditch jersey. She was barefoot with her strawberry blonde hair in a messy bun. Really, he didn't think she'd ever looked more  
beautiful.

"Katherine May," Alex said, pocketing his wand. "Crazy girl, what are you doing to my heart?"

"Come up here," she said, bouncing slightly.

Alex peeled off his jacket and dropped it onto a box marked for the kitchen. "Why is it so quiet in here?" he asked, as he made his way towards the stairs. He climbed them two at a time, reaching her in lessthan ten seconds.

"I didn't even notice," she just managed to say, before she was lifted off the ground. "Alex!" she squealed, gripping his upper arms.

He was quick to set her back down, his grin contagious. He gave her a chaste welcome-home kiss before looking around. "What are you doing up here?"

Kate dropped her gaze for a moment. "Well, you see, when I was speaking to your dad earlier, he may have mentioned that there were things in the attic that he wanted to get from us."

Alex frowned. "The attic?"

"That's the room in the roof of a house," she teased.

He huffed. "I know what an attic is," he said, clearly unimpressed. "What could possibly be up there?"

"Exactly my thought," she said, removing herself from his embrace and starting down the corridor. "I've kind of been up there since I got off the phone with Harry. I've found some amazing things."

Alex had no choice but to follow her. "What kind of things?"

"Notes. Journals. Pictures," she informed him. "I even found some of your old artwork."

Alex groaned. "Oh Merlin, please no."

"Oh yes," she sing-songed.

"I'll burn them, you know?"

"No you won't," she shot back, looking at him over her shoulder. "You'd break Harry's heart."

"What heart?" he muttered.

She stopped walking and turned to look at him, fire burning in her eyes. "You take that back right now."

He sighed. "Fine. But he's said nothing to me about the news," he said. "I mean, other than giving us this house; it's like he doesn't care."

Kate frowned. "Of course he cares," she said. "It's just hard for him."

"What? What is so hard, when it's happening to _us_?"

"But it's not just happening to us, Alex," she countered gently. "I'm sure that Harry didn't want to be a single father, and it's probably even more daunting being a single _grand_ father."

Alex let out a long breath. "It's about Mum then?"

Kate laid a hand on his chest. "Isn't it always?"

He put a hand over hers. "I'm not really mad," he admitted. "I mean, I was, but I'm not anymore. I just wish he'd been more excited."

"When has your father ever been _excited_?"

"I don't know," he said, shrugging. "Right now, _you_ know him better than I do."

She let out a light laugh. "Maybe we should have him over for dinner before we throw our housewarming party," she suggested. "It could also be that he feels like you're just growing up so fast and he doesn't know how to handle it."

"You're making it sound like I just left the house," he commented dryly.

"And was Harry excited about that?"

Alex needn't have thought back. He knew his father hadn't wanted Alex to go on his year-long trip around the world, but he'd put a smile on his face and given his blessing regardless.

As he had when Alex told him that he was about to become a father.

"Do you think he's worried _for_ me?" Alex eventually asked, his voice coming out as barely a whisper. "Because he's never really thought he was a good dad, but he was great. He still is."

"The two of you definitely have to talk about it," Kate concluded, before she grabbed hold of his hand. "Now, come on, there are things I want to show you."

Alex allowed her to pull him along, and he followed her up the ladder into the large attic of Potter Manor. It spanned the East Wing of the house, which was the area that Alex and Kate decided to occupy. The West Wing was where he'd lived when he was  
a child.

It wasn't as dusty in the attic as he imagined it would be. He suspected that there were long-lasting preservation charms in place. He wondered if they were cast by his mother. His eyes followed Kate as she headed towards one corner, where several boxes  
were now open.

"I found this box of old books," Kate informed him. "I thought they were your standard textbooks, but they're not. On the inside covers, they all say: Property of Hermione Granger."

Alex's breath caught in his throat.

"They're all sorts of books," Kate went on to explain, dropping to her knees and peering into the box. "All sorts of novels, old and new texts, and quite a few baby books, which actually say Hermione Potter. She must have done a lot of reading during  
her pregnancy."

Alex just blinked.

"Are you even listening?" Kate asked, glancing at him.

Alex snapped out of his trance and looked at her. It had been a long time since he heard his mother's name. Even his father didn't use it. When he was conscious, at least.

"Alex?"

He started towards her, and knelt down beside her. "You said something about journals?"

Kate pointed to a pile of notebooks to her right. "They're early ones," she said. "I didn't read anything; I just looked at the dates."

He placed a hand on her back. "It's okay," he said gently.

"I know what she means to you," she said. "I've never wanted to overstep."

"It's okay," he said again.

Kate returned her attention to the box, while Alex shuffled around her to get to the small pile of journals. He already had several of his mother's journals in his possession, though they were from around the time after the end of the Second Wizarding  
War.

It was one of the only ways he learned of the life his mother once lived.

Once he reached the pile, he sat down on his bottom and crossed his legs. Finally settling, he reached for a journal, absently noting that this one started in September of 1993, while his parents were still in school.

Alex couldn't stop his smile. He would know Hermione Granger's handwriting just about anywhere and, as much as he was tempted, he didn't start to read. He would locate the earliest journal first, and then begin to go through all of them.

"Oh," Kate said, getting his attention.

"Oh what?" he asked, looking up.

She was looking at the first page of a foreign notebook. "Umm, this one is from 2004."

He frowned. "What?"

"2004, Alex. This journal is from 2004."

"That's not possible," he said, shuffling back towards her. "Her journals stop when they got married. She even said so in her last journal. She said it was her last."

"Do you mind?" Kate asked, seeking permission.

"Go ahead," he said, moving so that he was kneeling behind her, looking over her shoulder.

 _2nd August 2004_

 _Dear Baby Potter_

 _It's your mother here. Today, this day, the eight of August, is the day that I found out that you're going to exist. You are, in fact, the first one to know. I haven't even told my mother, let alone your father._

 _I suppose I'm still in a bit of shock. Don't misunderstand me; I'm thrilled. We've been trying for a while now - please be old enough to understand what that means by the time you read this - and so I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that it's finally happening._

 _We're having a baby. We're having_ you _._

 _If I'm being honest - and I intend to be - I don't know why I've decided to write this letter to you. I haven't written for years, and I stand by the reasons that I stopped. Sometimes I felt like I spent too much time writing my life down rather than living it, but I intend to write to you. This won't be the last letter, that's for sure._

 _I do hope you won't find it too strange when you're older. I suppose I just want you to know that I've loved you from the moment I found out about you; from the moment I decided we were ready to have a baby._

Alex stopped reading, his heart thumping in his chest. "It's not a journal," he whispered. "It's a letter."

"To you."

"To me," he agreed, sitting back on his heels as if he'd just had the wind knocked out of him.

Kate closed the notebook and turned to look at him. "Are you all right?"

He shook his head, but he didn't speak.

"Oh, baby," Kate said, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. Maybe we shouldn't have come up here."

"No," he said, offering her a small smile. "It's okay. I'm okay."

Kate shook her head, before she struggled to her feet. "Come on," she said. "Let's go make dinner. Baby Potter is starving."

Alex blinked. _Baby Potter_.

Kate didn't wait for a response from him as she pulled him to his feet and led the way out of the attic. He made sure she got down the ladder safely before he followed her down, and then further down to the kitchen.

Kate intended to keep him occupied, and cooking dinner together was one way of doing it. He was definitely distracted, but she made no comment. He was, unfortunately, a lot like his father that way.

The silent type.

A brooder.

Kate knew that he would talk to her about it all when he was ready.

After they ate dinner, Kate offered to do the dishes, and Alex disappeared up the stairs. She did not follow him when she was done, choosing rather to put on some music and relax in the living room with a book. He would let her know if he needed her.

Alex, meanwhile, was back in the attic. He suspected that Kate knew exactly where he was but he just knew that she would leave him be for now.

He headed straight towards the _one_ journal. If it even was a journal. He sat down with the notebook, brought his knees up to his chest and started to read from where they left off.

 _But a person is never really ready, are they? When your Uncle Ron and Aunt Luna had Phillip, I remember them being overwhelmed by just how much work a baby actually is. The first night we babysat for them, I was exhausted. And it had been for only a few hours._

 _I'm worried, and a little scared. I'm only twenty-four after all. What do I know?_

 _Okay, I know a lot, about obscure things mainly, but I don't know how to be a mother. What if I'm bad at it? What if we're about to bring this baby into the world, only to ruin him or her? I wonder if this is what every new almost-parent feels._

 _Shall I tell you how I found out about you? It's a rather odd story, involving your Uncle Ron and his favourite mashed potatoes. Oh, how he loves his mash. I'm normally a fan as well._

 _Anyway, I was having lunch with your Uncle Ron, your Aunt Ginny and their mother, Molly, today. Your father was busy on a case, and I was over at the Burrow for a quick meal before I had to get back to St Mungo's._

 _So we were having mashed potatoes. I haven't been feeling that well this whole week, and then just THOSE potatoes. I felt so sick and ended up throwing up on Ron. Merlin, it was awful._

 _If Baby Potter ends up a girl; I'm terribly sorry. Life is hard as a girl. And if you do end up a boy; please bear that in mind. Be kind to us._

 _And then there was the laundry room. Can you believe it? The laundry detergent. I couldn't stomach it. Your father told me it was just the normal one we always used, but it made me throw up._

 _So, when I mentioned it all to Molly, she made a teasing comment that I might be pregnant. We all laughed._

 _I'm still laughing._

 _When I got back to St Mungo's, I couldn't stop thinking about what Molly said. I've never really been all that regular - if you know what that means - but I decided to take a test anyway. The Muggle way. I was not about to point a wand at my abdomen and see what happened - in case Molly was right. So I left work and went to the pharmacy near our apartment. I bought seven tests._

 _All of them were positive._

 _And so here we are. I'm going to be a mother, provided everything goes to plan. We're going to be parents. And, as frightening as that is, I'm so happy. I actually can't wait._

 _I can't wait for you to get here, so I can meet you._

 _But I should probably tell your father now, shouldn't I? He asks me from time to time, how I'm feeling. I know he wants a family of his own, and I'm literally giddy that I get to give him one. Because of that, I'm thinking that I want to announce it to him in a special way._

 _Any ideas? How would you want your father to find out about you? I'll have to think about it. Get creative. Which, incidentally, has never really been my strong-suit. Books and cleverness; that's me._

 _I'll keep you posted about his reaction. I'm excited for it. He might even cry._

 _But, don't you worry, Baby Potter. You just enjoy your time in there, all right? I'll take care of you._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

 _P.S. I'm your mother. Oh Merlin, I'm your_ mother _. Pinch me._

Alex finished with the letter and was surprised to find Kate sitting in the attic's hatch, her feet dangling down into the corridor.

"Hey you," he said, blinking. "How long have you been sitting there?"

"You're crying, Alex."

His left hand flew up to his cheeks and, indeed, he felt the tears. "Oh."

"I think you should come downstairs now," she said, her tone gentle. "Mrs Potter is missing her husband."

Alex waited a beat before he rose to his feet and made his way towards her, the notebook tucked under his arm.

"I love you, Alexander Potter," she said, before she disappeared through the hatch

He followed her down and lifted the ladder, closing the hatch off to the rest of the house. It was as if he was closing off the journals as well. Closing off the past; closing off the painful loss of the mother he couldn't even remember.

Alex didn't get back to the notebook until much later. Kate crawled into bed first, while Alex moved through the house, making sure that everything was locked up and secure. They'd been robbed twice while they stayed in their one-bedroom apartment in  
London, and Kate was still paranoid.

Alex knew they weren't in danger here; in the house his father bought when his parents first started their family, but he would do anything he could to make sure his wife was comfortable. His father was able to teach him that without even having a wife  
to show him.

By the time Alex made it to their new master bedroom, Kate was already asleep, her one leg encroaching on his side of the bed.

He stood over their bed, spying the now-famous journal on his night table. He wanted to read more. He was almost desperate to find out what more she wrote. Because there was more in there. If he knew anything about his mother, it was that she loved to  
write words. The same way he loved to write music.

As silently as he could, Alex picked up the journal and left the room, making sure he didn't close the door completely, in case Kate woke up. He made his way down the corridor, right across the house to the West Wing until he came to what was his bedroom  
when he was growing up.

It was exactly as he remembered it being when he left home for the final time the summer after he graduated from Hogwarts. Alex entered the room and crossed to his bed, casually dropping down as if he'd never left. There were still Quidditch posters up  
on the walls, and sheets of music from his teenage days pinned up on his noticeboards.

He eventually propped himself up against his many pillows and, once again, brought his knees up to his chest. He rested the journal on his chest and knees, opened it up, and proceeded to read.

 _24th August 2004_

 _I was right!_

 _Auror Extraordinaire, Harry James Potter dropped to his knees and cried tears when I finally told him about you. As much as I tried to come up with a really clever way of letting him know, it ended up falling a bit flat._

 _See, today is our two-year wedding anniversary and, being who he is, your father decided to take me out for a romantic dinner. After such a romantic_ day _, actually. He's a bit of a romantic, that one. I woke up to breakfast in bed and roses upon roses._

 _As much as he tried to get me to skip work today, I couldn't. My patients needed me today and I'm sure he already knew that._

 _He did, however, turn up at St Mungo's the minute the clock struck five o'clock, ready to whisk me away. He barely gave me time to get dressed before we went to the restaurant. Until that point, I'd managed to avoid all his questions about the throwing up and the laundry detergent._

 _But then there was the wine. At home, I was able to use my wand to disguise my drink but then, in the restaurant, I couldn't be conspicuous when it came to him, and I was forced to tell him._

 _And, right there, in that restaurant, he practically fell off his chair, buried his face in his hands and sobbed. From happiness, mind you. I was forced to cast a Notice-Me-Not on us; he was drawing so much attention._

 _I anticipated his reaction, but it still surprised me. He was just so_ happy _. It was as if his entire life built up to this very moment, and I was able to give it to him. I feel both privileged by and, well, afraid of it. I'm the one to give him everything he's ever wanted. When you're in my position, you'll understand._

 _Though, you had best be of age and completely secure emotionally, physically and financially before you even consider having children. Are we clear? Good._

 _Then he thanked me. Repeatedly._

 _I told him that I want at least three children, to which he said he would give me anything I ever wanted. I swear, Baby Potter, I don't think we could have found a better husband and father. We're definitely lucky._

 _We abandoned our meal after that. I'm sure, if you're old enough, you can guess why that was. He's asleep now, and I'm writing this letter at the little secretary desk we have in our bedroom. It's this adorable thing we found in the Potter family vault, made of this wonderful, dark natural wood._

 _The desk belonged to his mother who, I'm afraid, you will never meet, but she truly was a wonderful woman. Your father put the desk in here because he claims that he likes to watch me work. When I asked him why he then didn't put our little piano in our bedroom; he had no response._

 _He's a bit of an odd one, your father, but we love him. I suspect that he just wanted something that belonged to his mother close to him, but he was too embarrassed to say so. Let's vow right now not to be afraid of our feelings, all right?_

 _He'd blush scarlet if I ever asked him to talk about his_ feelings _._

 _Anyway, so I'm glad he knows. It's been difficult keeping it from him. We talked it out, and we've decided that we're going to wait until you and I are three months along before we break the news to the rest of the family. It's apparently what people do, because many things can go wrong in the first trimester._

 _I'm trying not to think about that too much. I already told you not to worry. I'll take care of you._

 _And to do that, I should probably get to bed as well. I know I don't yet know you, but I do love you so, Baby Potter. Without even being here, you're already bringing such joy to our lives. Don't worry about the tears. He cries when he's happy, otherwise you never know what he's feeling. The broody marshmallow._

 _Don't you worry. I'll make sure he stays that way._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

This time around, Alex wasn't surprised by the tears. This was his mother, and it was like she was talking to him. He could practically hear her voice, as he was sometimes sure he remembered, and as he heard in the Pensieve memories from his father.

He leaned his head back and let out a long breath. He wasn't even sure that he wanted to keep reading. Even as he thought it, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop now. He craved for anything and everything to do with his mother. He always had. He just  
wanted to be close to her.

 _6th September 2004_

 _Dear Baby Potter_

 _It's officially three months. We made it. We did it._

 _And, as a result, I had brunch with my mum this morning, and I told her that she's going to be a grandmother. She didn't cry, though she did come quite close. It was wonderful. I don't think I'll ever forget today._

 _Her face. Her expression. I've accomplished numerous things in my life, but I've never seen that look of pride on her face before. I don't think I can explain it but maybe, one day, you'll be able to ask her. You're going to love her. She's great, though she can be terribly blunt._

 _Jane Granger doesn't beat around the bush. It's both a blessing and a curse to have such a mother, I think. We've had fights, as you can imagine. Many. I'm even embarrassed to tell you, but you should remember that your father and I had to deal with some very different and dangerous things in our lives. She's never liked that._

 _God, I wouldn't even know what to do with myself if you ever do some of the things we had to do. I'd probably pull out my own hair. You better be well-behaved._

 _Who am I kidding? You'll be the grandchild of a Marauder._

 _Speaking of, I also went to the doctor today with my mum. We're sticking to a Muggle doctor for now because, the moment we show up at St Mungo's for a checkup; the entire Wizarding World will know there's a Baby Potter on the way. One of the drawbacks of being instrumental in the end of the War, I suppose._

 _It was a relief to hear that all is well, and we're both doing good. My baby is safe and healthy. It's still all I could have asked for._

 _Your father is leaving on a mission to Australia tomorrow. It should take between a week and ten days. He promises he'll be back for my birthday, but I'm not holding my breath. I get worried when he goes. He can be rather reckless, you see, and he's ended up at St Mungo's one too many times for my comfort._

 _I know I'll have to talk to him about his being more careful, now that he's going to be a father. I have no intention of raising you by myself. I'd probably end up ruining you._

 _Imagine Harry by himself. I'm sure he would do well, but I intend on sticking around for a very long time. I might even refrain from sending you to Hogwarts, and actually tutoring you myself. Would that drive you mad? I think it might._

Alex stopped reading. It was as if she knew. Of course she'd probably thought about it. Maybe this was why she started these letters in the first place. Anything could happen and, from what Alex learned about the War; anything _could_. And _did_.

 _I drove your father a little crazy after the War ended. I couldn't stand having him out of my sight. When you read the History books, I'm sure you'll understand why. I suppose, then, it means I'll probably be a cautious mother. Maybe overprotective. We'll see how it goes. I'll do my research._

 _It's what I'm good at._

 _Which reminds me: I should get back to this research report I'm the middle of writing. It's about initiating mass production of the newest recipe for Wolfsbane, created and first brewed by, yes, yours truly. It's patented. Your father suggested I use the name Hermione Granger, but I decided on Potter. As difficult as it sometimes is being Harry Potter's wife; I've never been ashamed of it. I'm incredibly proud of it._

 _It's something I always have to remind myself of. Harry didn't choose this life, but I chose him. You, unfortunately, don't have that luxury, but just trust in my decision. There's nobody better for the two of us. If we're two. My mother might have mentioned that her side of the family has a knack of producing twins. I don't think I could handle two at once, at the first go._

 _So you better be just one. Our doctor didn't mention anything, so I'm not too worried. Twins would be better than triplets. But if you end up being anything like I remember Fred and George Weasley being; I think I would end up pulling out my own hair._

 _Speaking of hair. Merlin, I'm worried for you, Baby Potter. My hair is bushy beyond control, and your father's hair... It's messy, untameable, and yet still one of my favourite things about him. All I'm saying is that you're probably going to hate your DNA from time to time. Forgive us. We've tried. Believe me, we've tried._

 _Maybe I'll have invented some new potion by the time we have to deal with your almost-certain-to-be unruly hair. I'll keep you posted on that._

 _Don't you worry, okay? I've got you._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex's hand absently moved to run through his own hair. She was right in that it was terribly unmanageable, but it was one of the things that Kate loved most about him. He'd struggled with it, of course, and his father had been sympathetic to a point.  
Harry said that, at some point, you just give in; you surrender to the hair and just keep living.

Like a life sentence.

Alex remembered laughing whenever Harry used to comment on his own messy hair. His father always did try to make him laugh. It was only later that Alex realised that it was mainly because Alex had his mother's laugh. At the time, Alex wasn't sure what  
to make of it. In the end, he decided it didn't matter to him.

It did no harm, and it resulted in a very happy childhood for him. If his own child could have half as happy a childhood as he had; then he would be doing something right.

As he got older, Alex did lose the laugh, but his father never ceased making sure he was always laughing; always forgetting that his mother was gone and would never be coming back.

It still made him catch his breath whenever he thought about it.

There was this entire woman who he couldn't remember, but held such a dear and large part of his heart. It devastated him that he'd never grown to know her the way all the people around him had. He was jealous of them.

For years, Alex researched, asked questions, read journals and followed in the footsteps of this strange woman who dedicated so much of her life to helping others. He tried to learn all he could about Hermione Granger. It helped that she wrote journals,  
and his father gave him access to them; wanting to share as much of her as he could.

She was the reason he started playing piano in the first place. She was the reason he did a lot of things. Whenever he was about to do something, she would pop into his head, and he would ask himself 'What would Hermione Granger do?'

He was the successful man that he was because of _both_ his parents, even if one of them left his life when he was still only fifteen months old.

Alex turned the page of the journal.

 _20 September 2004_

 _Dear Baby Potter_

 _The clock on the wall says that it's 02:23 in the morning. It's the day after my twenty fifth birthday. I'm twenty-five years old. Quarter of a century. It's scary. I've already lived so much life, but there's so much still to come._

Alex had to stop reading for a moment. His heart was hurting. She should have lived such a long life. She had so much left to do; to give; to experience.

 _I had to go into work today. One of my nurses, Martha, organised a little staff party for me, and I burst out crying. I've been an emotional mess all week, and I'm embarrassed to admit that it's because I missed your father._

 _I know. I know. Don't judge me. I spent a few nights with my parents because your father doesn't like it when I stay alone. As if I can't take care of myself._

 _After work, I stopped by my parents' house for some tea, and then the three of us headed to the Burrow. Molly decided that she was hosting my birthday dinner, and nobody was about to argue with her. It's was odd, though, celebrating without your father._

 _It also didn't feel right telling them all about the baby without having him there. Molly almost fell off of her chair when I told her she was right when she joked about my being pregnant. You wouldn't be her first grandchild, so you'll have many cousins._

 _Your father wasn't there because his mission to Australia kept him there for longer than expected, which was annoying. He did send his gift to my office, which was two tickets to the opera in London. He just knows what I like, and I love that he would be willing to sit through something he doesn't quite enjoy just for me._

 _So I really didn't expect him to come home, and you can imagine my surprise when I came home from dinner at the Burrow to find none other than Auror Potter waiting for me. I screamed and drew my wand, thinking he was an intruder._

 _Let's just say that we both ended up in heaps of laughter. He came home just in time to wish me happy birthday in person. It turns out that the tickets to the opera weren't the real present._

 _It was a grand piano._ Steinway. The _most beautiful, perfect instrument I have ever seen. We're still in our London apartment, which isn't that large, so the white beauty takes up majority of our living room. But I am NOT complaining. It could take the place of our bed, for all I care._

 _He asked me to play for him. You can't yet hear the music but I intend to play for you when you can. I love to play, and he loves to watch me. We make quite the pair._

 _And plus, playing piano is a lot safer than playing Quidditch. You heard it here first, kid. Never forget._

 _Anyway, he may have mentioned that he went a little AWOL, leaving his fellow Aurors at their base, just to see me. He's probably going to get fined or something, but he claimed it was worth it. The little charmer._

 _He left ten minutes ago. I already miss him. Before you judge me - or possibly roll your eyes, which is a thing I love to do - you'll realise what I mean when you meet him. He's just one of those that you miss._

Alex stopped reading once again. She was right about that, at least. Alex did miss his father. Something had been off between them ever since Alex informed Harry that he was going to become a grandfather, and Alex wasn't sure why. He definitely needed  
to talk to his father about all of this.

 _He doesn't know when he's coming home, which annoys me. Several things annoy me these days. I've definitely got a shorter fuse than usual and, yes, I'm going to blame you. As a result of all my crazy hormones, I'm turning into a basket case._

 _Who is dead tired. I have work in the morning. At this rate, I'll get four hours of sleep, at best. It's bad form, I know. I definitely should take better care of myself, and you._

 _But it was my birthday. I should be forgiven._

 _Don't you worry, all right? I'll do much better._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mum_

Once he was done, Alex leaned his head back again and closed his eyes, replaying all that this day had revealed to him. His breathing slowly evened out and, as he drifted to sleep; he could practically hear his mother repeatedly telling him what he needed  
to hear.

 _Don't you worry._


	2. Chapter 2

**II**

Alex woke up to a sound he'd grown accustomed to, ever since he and Kate first moved in together. He recognised it as a cello Shostakovich concerto, and it was absolutely beautiful. Because of it, he was tempted to remain right where he was but he eventually had to roll out of bed.

He wasn't surprised that he was in his old bedroom. His neck hurt, and he was still tired, but he did stand up and stretch. The journal had slipped to the ground during the night. He bent to retrieve it, tucked it under his arm and left the room.

Alex followed the sound of the music, heading down the stairs and into what Kate decided would be her practice room. It had wonderful acoustics.

He stood in the doorway and watched her until she drew the piece to a close. She had her back to him, but she knew he was there. She didn't know what it was, but she could _feel_ him.

"Good morning," Kate said, not even turning her to look at him. "How did you sleep?"

Alex walked towards her and came to a stop just behind her. He lifted his hands to massage her shoulders. "Good morning to you too," he said softly, bending and kissing the top of her head. "Is that a new piece?" he asked.

She looked over her shoulder at him. "You're up."

"Sorry."

Kate made no comment as she stood up. She allowed him to take the cello from her and set it down in its large case. "Are we going to talk about it?" she eventually asked.

Alex blinked. "I'll make breakfast," he said.

"I'm having brunch with Sarah," she reminded him. "Now that we're at three months, I'm going to tell her. Is that all right?"

"Of course," he said easily. It was Kate's decision who she told. "I think I'm just going to stay home today. I have, umm - " he hesitated. "I _have_ to read it, Katie."

"I know," she said.

He smiled. "You're too good to me."

"I know."

He drew her into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and burying his face in her hair. "I think that I might also visit my dad," he whispered.

"Oh?"

"I just want to see him," he said, pulling away so he could look at her. "I, umm - " he paused.

"You miss him, don't you?"

He laughed lightly. "He's just one of those that you miss, apparently."

Kate kissed the underside of his chin, before she removed herself from his arms and led the way out of the practice room.

They went about their morning as usual, except that Kate skipped out on breakfast. After he ate, Alex disappeared into his own practice room, where his mother's grand piano sat at the very centre. Where she'd left it all those years ago.

He did not sit down at the piano. Instead, he threw himself onto the black leather couch, pulled out the journal and started to read.

 _25 September 2004_

 _Dear Baby Potter_

 _The piano is wonderful. It almost makes up for the fact that your father isn't back from his mission yet. I'm learning a new piece that I hope will be ready by the time he comes home._

 _My mother might have mentioned that it's time for us to move into the big house. It's the house that your father bought when we decided we were ready to start our family. It's not his ancestral home. There were Manors that belonged to the Potters many years ago, but they're all gone now._

 _The new house would be our new home. One in which we both want to raise our family. It has lots of yard space, and many, many rooms. I've already decided where the piano will go. That was the first thing I told him when we first visited the house. It was the most important part, wasn't it?_

 _I hope you'll grow to love music. Hearing it, and playing it. I won't force you into anything, but I intend to expose you to all of it, Muggle and magical alike. There's a lot of the world that witches and wizards miss out on, but you, my dear baby, will not be one of those._

 _My father plays the saxophone. He started when he was very young, and it's because of him that I learned the wonder of classical music. We play together sometimes. You'll hear it one day._

Alex stopped reading for a moment. If he'd ever heard his grandfather and mother play; he couldn't remember. There was so much he couldn't remember.

 _Your father tried to play piano once. I attempted to teach him something simple, but it just did not work. He's entirely useless at it. He should stick to flying that broom of his. Help me make sure to remind him every day, all right?_

 _I find myself wondering if you'll also be such a fan of Quidditch. There are fans, and then there are FANS. Your Uncle Ron is rather obsessive about the Canons and your Aunt Ginny plays for the Harpies so the weekends when those two teams play tend to get really heated at the Burrow. It's probably why your father and I steer clear when those weekends come around._

 _We get out of the city sometimes. We spent several months out in nature during the War, and I suppose we're used to it by now. I actually enjoy it. And it's not yet too cold, so that's always a plus. We've had some terrible experiences with the cold, but those are stories for another day._

 _Just remind me to tell you, all right? Make sure that_ I'm _the one who tells you. Your father will make himself sound so insignificant that the stories won't be accurate. He's such a humble wizard sometimes._

 _And make sure that Ron doesn't tell you the stories either. He'll blow them way out of proportion. And Aunt Luna would just confuse you. Goodness knows that she still confuses me. Trust me, I'm definitely your best bet._

 _Don't you worry, Baby Potter. I always will be._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

For a moment, Alex felt a flash of anger. She lied to him. She lied. She wasn't here. She wasn't around for him. Who was supposed to be his 'best bet' now?

It took another moment for him to calm down. He was being ridiculous. It wasn't as if she asked to die. He knew, without a doubt, that she would have done _everything_ in her power to stay with him.

He also knew that his father would have done everything he could as well and, he suspected, that he might have tried. From what Alex had read and was told, Harry didn't handle his wife's death all that well, but he pulled himself together for his son.

For Alex.

Everything he'd ever done was for the benefit of his son. Alex wasn't naive enough to have missed that, now that he was old enough to see all of it.

His mother might have died, but his father more than made up for it. The humble wizard that he was. Alex felt like he was learning as much about his father as he was about his mother with these letters. He _had_ to keep reading.

 _30 September 2004_

 _Dear Baby Potter_

 _He's home!_

 _Forgive me. I'm just a little relieved to have Mr Potter in the same country as the both of us again. I really don't like it when he's gone. The work he does is so dangerous, and I've contemplated guilt-tripping him into pulling back, but I can't bring myself to do it. He's so passionate about his work._

 _But he's home! Which means that he'll be here for our four-month checkup and, according to the books I've read; we should be able to know the gender of a baby at 16 weeks. So I'm excited for that; I can't even explain it._

 _I don't know if I want a girl or a boy. I think that we'd be better prepared for a boy, given our experience with Teddy Lupin. He's your father's godson and so, by default, mine as well. He's a bundle of energy, that one._

 _But a little girl would be great as well. Your father would treat her like a little princess, I'm sure. He gets all googly eyed around your Uncle Neville and Aunt Ginny's daughter, Rebecca. He absolutely dotes on her._

 _I sometimes suspect that it's the red hair._

 _He was surprised by how much my stomach's grown. I'm definitely showing, which means that people will start noticing, which means that the entire Wizarding World is going to know about you. I've tried to keep you hidden, but there's only so much I can do._

 _If I could have you and not let the world know, I would. Hmm. Maybe I'll just hide out at home as I get bigger. I can do my research at home. How does that sound?_

 _Looks like we're back to that whole idea of home-schooling you. It keeps popping up. Clearly, it's a sign._

 _I'm kidding. I think. I'll discuss it with your father, even though I'm already sure what he'll say. Or think. He's not like Ron in that he probably wouldn't call me mental to my face, but he'll definitely think it, and then call me brilliant instead._

 _Now that I'm pregnant, he's decided to give me everything that I want. I don't even have to ask sometimes. He's a mind-reader - though not really, it's actually illegal._

 _He brought us presents back from Australia. I'll have you know that I threw up the moment I smelt the_ Vegemite _. Your father, though, with his Seeker reflexes, was able to get out of the way in time._

 _I've never found throwing up all that funny, but I don't think I've laughed so hard in my entire life. He brought us clothes as well. You've got a little babygrow that'll make you look like a little kangaroo. You're going to look adorable. I can just imagine it now._

 _I also got a grownup babygrow. They call them onesies, I think, but they're not that popular yet. I cannot wait for us to be a family of kangaroos. Can you imagine? Harry Potter dressed in a kangaroo jumpsuit. It's funny just thinking about it. Those would be pictures that the Daily Prophet would definitely love to see._

 _Wow. Can you tell that I'm glad he's home? Everything is better when he's around. Don't you worry. You'll see for yourself._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex, thankfully, was smiling this time around. Sure, he felt the sadness, but this was a happier letter. She sounded _happy_ and light and carefree. She sounded young and optimistic, and _so_ _in love_. Wow, he missed her.

Alex waited several minutes, trying to keep his heart rate steady.

"Alex?"

He sat up to see Kate poking her head through the open door. "Hey you."

"I'm headed out," she said. "Do you need me to pick up anything?"

He shook his head.

"Will you be all right?"

He nodded.

She regarded him for a moment, trying to read him. "Okay."

"Say hi to Sarah for me," he added. "Tell her I haven't forgotten what she said about my football club."

Kate laughed. "You do remember that my sister and I support the same team, right?"

"I remember," he muttered. "I don't know why I ever married you."

"It's because I'm so damn hot."

"This is true."

"I love you, Alexander Potter."

He grinned at her. "I love you too, Katherine Potter."

"I'm stepping out into the world," she said teasingly, standing up straight. "I go by Katherine Locke, thank you very much."

Thinking back on his mother's letters, his face fell. "Katie?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you ashamed of being married to me?"

Kate's eyes widened. "What?"

Alex dropped his gaze. "Sorry. Stupid question."

"We decided, Alex, that I would keep my name professionally," she said, frowning slightly. "And I was teasing."

"I know," he said, shaking his head. "Sorry. I'm just, umm, working through, umm something."

"Okay," she said.

He took a deep breath. "I love you, Katie. And little Baby Potter."

She blew him a kiss. "See you later, Daddy Potter." And then she was gone, leaving Alex alone with his mother and the memories he wished he had.

 _Daddy_. Alex was going to be a Dad.

If that wasn't enough to frighten him, he didn't know what was. It helped that his mother admitted to being a bit afraid of it as well.

 _8th October 2004_

 _Dear Baby Potter_

 _Today was supposed to be a good day. I was so excited about finding out your gender, so I can refer to you as something different until we decide on a name for you._

 _So, your father and I went to the doctor today, and we saw you on the sonogram. You're a whole actual baby. Inside me. It was amazing. We weren't able to tell what your gender is yet, but I'll definitely keep you posted on those developments._

 _But I think it freaked out your father. I wasn't surprised by his reaction, given all that he's been through in his life. As much as he's convinced himself that he wants a family; I think that the reality of it has just hit him. Seeing you like that scared him._

 _He was worryingly quiet when we left the doctor's. I don't usually call him out on his broodiness but I started to think that this isn't what he wants. I was worried that he didn't want this anymore, and that frightened me. I can't imagine doing this alone._

 _So I asked him about it, and we sort of fought. Don't be surprised. Married people do fight. Well, he was hurt that I would think such a thing, and I realise why that would be so. He did acknowledge that my doubts weren't unfounded. We're good at that, you know? Your father and I, we tend to talk about things. Eventually._

 _I hope you'll be the same. It's good to talk about things. Please never go to bed angry with anyone. When you've been in a War, fearing for your life; you tend to get over things really quickly. You tend to forgive the petty things. But never go to bed angry. We never know what can happen._

 _Well, isn't that morbid? I told you today was supposed to be a good day._

 _There are things you won't know about your father and, if he had his way, you wouldn't ever know, but there are reasons why he's so afraid of being a father. Psychology says that there are always chances of children from abusive homes perpetuating the cycle. He's always been worried about it, but I know him._

 _We know him, Baby Potter. He's dedicated his entire life to helping people; to saving people. He is a great man and it's up to us to make sure we tell him every day. He likes the blame-game a little too much, so we have to keep him in check. We have to look after him; we have to love him._

 _Can you help me with it? He's too pure and kind for the world to take advantage of, and it's up to us to keep him happy._

 _Because he makes me so happy, Baby Potter. Even when he's brooding, believe it or not. Even when he's convinced the fate of the world is still on his shoulders. He still makes me happy._

 _The fact that he's so worried tells me that he'll be a great father. Not perfect. Nobody is. But he'll beat himself up to make sure you live the kind of life he could only dream of when he was a child. You are already loved, Baby Potter._

 _You may also end up being the most spoilt child in all of Britain._

 _I'll do my best to keep you grounded. I suspect that your father will want to give you everything you want. Do try not to take advantage of him. Promise you'll at least try._

 _So we talked it out. Well, I reckon_ I _talked, and he listened. That's usually how it goes. Always has been._

 _Don't you worry. I doubt that'll ever change._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

For a moment, Alex couldn't recall what he read. There was just so much in that letter that he felt particularly winded.

Of course, he did know things about his father's childhood, but it was never something that they talked about. They would talk about _this_ though.

Making a decision, he shut the journal and set it aside. There was only one thing to do now.

It didn't take him long to shower and get dressed and, by noon, he was at his father's with the intent of getting some answers for his questions.

Alex entered Grimmauld Place with a little apprehension. He never liked this house, mainly because his father hated the house. Harry Potter made his distaste known on plenty of occasions, but he'd moved into the house well before Alex even got married.

Twenty-seven years later and Alex still didn't understand his father.

Alex wasn't surprised to find Harry in the house's library. It boasted a great collection of books, which he knew that his parents both loved. His father was hunched over a tome at his desk, studying it intensely.

Harry was surprised by the arrival of his son, and it showed on his face when he eventually looked up and spotted the younger Potter in the doorway. Even though Harry was already just passed fifty years old; his magic kept him looking young; though he had definitely aged.

"Alex?" Harry said, immediately standing. "Everything all right? Is Katherine okay?"

Alex couldn't help his smile. "Everything is fine, Dad," he said, moving into the room. "Kate's great. Didn't you speak to her yesterday?"

Harry's cheeks tinged pink. "I did."

Alex shook his head. "She wants you to come over for dinner some time this week."

"What day did you have in mind?"

Alex was a little thrown by the speed of his father's response. "Umm, how's about Thursday?"

"Sounds good," Harry said easily.

Alex frowned. "Don't you have to check some schedule or something?"

Harry's frown matched his son's. "No. It doesn't matter what I may or may not have going on. I always have time for my son."

That was the truth. Alex knew of the sacrifices his father made when his mother died even though Harry never told him. Harry Potter was once a rising star in the Auror Department but, when his wife died, he resigned almost immediately. There would be no more missions to take him away from Alex.

"So Thursday then?" Harry clarified.

Alex nodded. "I'll double check with Kate." Then he grinned. "Or _you_ could, I suppose. My Dad and wife seem to be getting pretty cosy, huh?"

The pinkness was back. "I needed some boxes from the attic."

Alex sank down onto the couch in the library and propped his feet up on the coffee table. "Was there something specific you were looking for?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry also retook his seat, absently running a hand through his hair. "I might have."

Alex grinned. "Kate might have gone a little crazy," he said. "Spent the entire day up there. I didn't know how much you kept."

"I kept everything," Harry confessed. "I couldn't bring myself to get rid of anything. She would have hexed me to within an inch of my life."

Once again, Alex noted that his father didn't refer to his mother by name, though he made sure that Alex always knew that he could talk about and ask questions about the one and only Hermione Granger.

"Well, you've now handed my wife some truly embarrassing ammunition," he said, chuckling. "I've spent years trying to convince her I was cool."

"Alex, you don't need me to tell you that you've failed miserably at that," he said, his grin matching his sons. "Kate already knows you are the furthest from cool."

"Thanks for the confidence, Dad," he commented dryly.

Harry leaned back in his desk chair and regarded his son curiously. "Are you sure everything is all right?"

For a moment, Alex was tempted not to bring up the journal, but he had to know. "When you spoke to Kate about wanting something from the attic; you knew she would go looking, didn't you?"

Harry's gaze met his son's; striking green eyes locking on emerald ones. "I didn't _know_ ," he confessed truthfully. "I had a suspicion, given what I already know about her, but I didn't expect her to find what I was looking for."

"And what exactly were you looking for?"

Harry remained silent.

Alex fished the journal out of his shoulder bag. "Is it this?"

Harry's eyes drifted towards the notebook in his son's hand. "What is that?"

"At first, I thought it was one of her journals," he said, his voice dropping in volume. "But her journals stop in 2002, and this one is from 2004."

Harry cocked his head to the side, just waiting.

"It's not a journal though," Alex continued. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Harry didn't respond to the question. "Have you read it?"

"Just the first four letters," he admitted. "I have so many questions."

Harry visibly stiffened, but he said nothing.

"Were you ever going to give it to me?"

"It's why I wanted it from the attic," he said, nodding once. "I was always going to give it to you when, you know, became a parent."

"So you read it then?"

Harry leaned forward. "I did."

"But...?"

"I'm aware that the letters are all addressed to you, but you have to understand that you aren't the only person who wants to hold onto her," he said calmly. "I went through every journal long before you did, and I'm not ashamed of it. They were her words, and I couldn't resist. I could just imagine her saying them."

Alex blinked. "It's like her voice is in my head."

"Hasn't it always been?"

Alex nodded. "But why now?"

"You already know the answer to that, Alex."

He took a deep breath and relaxed into the couch. "But _why_?"

"Why did she write the letters? Or why am I giving it to you now?"

"Both."

He cleared his throat. "I don't know the answer to that first question. Only she knows. But I do know that she would want you to read it now. _I_ want you to read it now because parenthood is scary, and I don't think that I'm enough to help you through it."

"Dad," he breathed.

"She was a great mum," he continued. "I know we didn't get that long with her, but she was great, and I've thought a lot about this, and I know that you would have had a better life if she were here instead of me."

Alex's eyes snapped towards his father. "Don't say that," he said tensely.

"Can you honestly tell me that you haven't had the same thought? That you would rather have her here instead of me?"

Alex hesitated, knowing that he wouldn't be able to lie.

"It's all right, Alex," Harry said gently.

Alex just stared at him with wide eyes.

"Which is why I wanted you to have that journal," Harry said. "There are things only a mother can teach you about being a parent. This privilege, Alex, of being a husband and father, it's the greatest thing that will ever happen to you and I want you to do it right."

Alex was still caught up on his father's earlier words, and he couldn't bring himself to speak. Did he really think that? Did he think that Alex thought that?

Before their current one-sided conversation could continue, they were made aware that there was another person in the house. Immediately on alert, both Potter men drew their wands.

"It's just me," the person called out, revealing his identity.

Both men visibly relaxed.

"We're in here," Harry called back.

A few moments later, Teddy Lupin stuck his head through the door. "Everybody decent?" he asked, grinning.

"What an idiot," Alex commented as he clambered to his feet to embrace his surrogate brother.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Teddy asked, picking up on the tension.

Neither Potter responded.

After greeting Alex, Teddy moved on to Harry, hugging him loosely.

"How is Papa Potter?" Teddy asked Harry.

"Good," he said. "How's Papa Lupin? How's Victoire? The kids?"

"Everyone is good," he said, settling down into an armchair, while Alex and Harry returned to their own seats. "I just got back from Salem."

Harry already knew that, but Alex proceeded to ask Teddy all sorts of questions about the seasoned Auror's work. Harry just watched them converse, a certain warmth filling his chest. These were his boys, no matter what anybody said.

"Harry," Teddy eventually said, getting his godfather's attention. "I actually had a favour to ask."

Harry gave him his full attention. "What's up, kiddo?"

"It's about Remus," he said, referring to his young son. "They're having some kind of pageant thing, I suppose, at his school, and he's supposed to talk about one of his Wizarding heroes, and he picked you."

Harry glanced at Alex for a moment before he nodded, prompting Teddy to continue.

"He's written you a letter," Teddy said, smiling. "It's two weekends away, and he would probably die if you were to show up. I'm not supposed to _ask_ you, so I won't. I'm just supposed to deliver this letter, right into your hand, and make sure that you read it."

Harry couldn't help his chuckle. Remus Harry Lupin had to be the greatest grandkid Harry could have ever asked for. He was a year shy of entering Hogwarts and Harry suspected that Teddy couldn't wait to get the monster out of the house.

Harry put his hand out. "Hand it over then," he said.

Teddy leapt to his feet, fished out the letter from his pocket and placed it in Harry's hand. "If my son asks, you tell him that I put it right into your hand, all right?"

"Done," he said, opening the letter and reading the messy handwriting. He couldn't help his smile. That little kid.

When he looked up again, both Teddy and Alex were watching him, each sporting stupid grins. "What?" he asked innocently.

"Are you sure you're not really still a kid?" Teddy asked.

"I can appreciate a good kid's letter," Harry said, his cheeks tinging pink again.

It was a wonder that Alex hadn't noticed how many times his father actually was embarrassed in a single day. He suspected that he really would turn beet red if ever he was asked to talk about his _feelings_.

"Do you still get all that fan mail?" Teddy asked.

Harry, once again, glanced at Alex before he responded. "Not as much as I used to, no," he confessed. "Now it's just kids who believe the stories that they hear."

"Or the stories that they read," Teddy added. "I know you know that what Remus believes is true, right? His _grandPapa_ Potter is a hero."

Harry made no comment. This was a conversation he always seemed to have with his godson, but he refused to engage. Especially not in front of Alex.

Harry shook his head. "I'll be there," he said simply.

Teddy's face broke out into a wide grin. "He's going to freak out when I tell him."

"Make sure he's sitting down," Alex commented, his grin matching Teddy's.

When they were still kids, the two of them spent a lot of time teasing Harry about his hero status because it made him so uncomfortable. Even now, as adults, they couldn't help it. It was just too good to pass up.

"Stop it, you two," Harry warned, though his smile betrayed him.

Teddy leaned back in his chair and looked at Alex. "Papa Potter's getting testy."

Harry just shook his head.

Alex laughed. "Ted, are you staying for lunch?"

Harry blinked. "We're having lunch?"

"I can make breakfast for lunch," Alex offered, not sure what to make of the surprised tone in his father's voice. "Like we used to have."

Like a child, Teddy clapped his hands together. "Oh, please make waffles, and your famous maple syrup chilli thing."

"With fried chicken?" Alex asked.

"Ooh," Teddy said excitedly. "Yes please."

Teddy and Alex looked at Harry, both of them asking the question. They knew he would give in. He usually did.

Harry let out a breath. "By all means," he eventually said, waving a hand through the air. "Go wild in my kitchen."

Alex jumped up, closely followed by Teddy. They started muttering to each other like they were still children. It was difficult to imagine that there were seven years between them.

Harry watched them leave the library, feeling somewhat giddy. He lived a lonely life, and he loved having his family around. His sons.

Harry didn't spend too much time reminiscing before he rose to his feet and went to join Teddy and Alex in the kitchen. Indeed, they had already made quite a mess of the kitchen.

It had to be one of the best meals Harry ever had. The three of them were able to enjoy one another's company, make jokes and just _be_. Sons sometimes just needed their fathers.

Teddy was the first to excuse himself several hours later, leaving the house with a brilliant smile on his face. He left Harry and Alex back in the library, with Alex back on the couch, and Harry in an armchair, the same tome from earlier propped up on his lap. He wasn't reading though.

Neither was Alex.

"How is work?" Harry asked.

"Interesting," Alex replied. "I've been working on a new piece, for the baby."

Harry smiled. "Just the piano, or the entire orchestra?"

"Both." He didn't mention that it wasn't going all that well.

"Do you think it will be done by October?"

Alex couldn't help his grin. "You talk to my wife a little too much, you know?"

Harry shrugged. "She did say that she finds me more handsome than she finds you."

"Did she now?"

"Don't blame her," he said, winking. "I'm terribly good-looking."

All Alex could think was _so much for humble_. But then again, Harry Potter was probably just being realistic. He really was still an attractive man. It baffled so many that he never remarried.

It was not that he didn't date on occasion. He _was_ a man after all, but nobody could ever claim a heart that had been so taken by a dead woman. He'd promised her forever, and he meant it.

If Alex ever worried that his father was unhappy, it always came back to the truth that Harry Potter would never find true happiness with anyone other than the love of his life, Hermione Granger.

"I'm sure that you don't want to spend your Sunday with an old man like me," Harry eventually said.

Alex shifted until he was reclining comfortably. "I'm exactly where I want to be," he said.

Harry just stared at him.

"Unless you want to be alone?"

Harry shook his head. "No, no I don't."

"So you won't mind if I just sit here and read?"

Harry absently waved a hand. "By all means."

They regarded each other once more before they both turned their attentions to their respective written works. Harry was reading up on new warding techniques for when the Aurors resumed training the following morning.

And Alex, well, he resumed reading the journal that he now knew was designed, in its entirety, to change _everything_.


	3. Chapter 3

**III**

Alex sneaked looks at his father over the top of the journal and, if Harry noticed, he didn't comment. There was something fractured in their relationship and Alex couldn't pinpoint exactly what that was.

What he did know was that it started the moment Alex told Harry about the baby. Or it just magnified. He now suspected that this collection of letters was the key to it all.

 _19th October 2004_

 _Dear Baby Potter_

 _It's official. The world now knows that there is a Baby Potter on the way. We've been bombarded with so much mail and good wishes. You're practically a royal baby. The entire Wizarding World - more than just Britain - is waiting on your arrival._

 _Blame your father. He's the one that decided to save the world with everyone watching._

 _I don't know exactly how they confirmed the pregnancy, but it was bound to come out eventually. I'm less annoyed than I thought I would be. It's odd._

 _The Daily Prophet broke the story this morning and your father was tiptoeing around me all morning. It's funny now that I think about it. It was like I was a ticking bomb and he was just waiting for me to explode._

 _I ended up just laughing, surprising us both. It was bound to happen. Anyone around St Mungo's could see me and know. We're approaching five months, you and me. I used to think that nine months was such a long time, but things really do seem to be speeding up now._

 _In just over four months, you'll be here. I can't wait, but I also_ can _. Does that make sense? Everything changes when you arrive._

 _Speaking of changes. We have decided that we're going to move into the big house. Majority of it is already furnished - though all I really need is the piano. I think that your father only agreed because he doesn't want to set up your room in the apartment. He wants to give you the perfect nursery, and he's going to do it in our family home._

 _I can tell that he's excited about it. He can get a bit restless around the house sometimes, so it's good to give him something to do. He's been drawing it out, moving things around and asking for my approval._

 _I find that I'm looking forward to shopping for you. Baby things just make me so happy. They're so tiny and cute and I have to stop myself from buying everything I see. I'm certain you're going to be the best dressed baby in Britain. Well, when you're not dressed like a kangaroo, that is._

Alex stopped reading and looked up at his father. "Dad?"

Harry also looked up. "Hmm?"

"Do you still have my baby clothes?"

Harry looked surprised for a moment, before he smiled and nodded. "I do. Why?"

"That kangaroo outfit," he said. "I, umm, I'd like for Baby Potter to have it, if that's all right."

Harry paled considerably. "The kangaroo outfit?"

"Unless...?"

"No," Harry quickly said. "I have it. I have all of your clothes. Do you want them all?"

Without thinking, Alex nodded.

"Okay."

"Okay."

They both returned to their reading. Alex smiled lightly as he resumed his mother's letter.

 _We're moving in - officially - at the beginning of November. I think that we both definitely want to bring you home from the hospital to the new house; to your new bedroom. Though, I'm certain that you'll spend your first few weeks with us in our bedroom. I don't think I'll be able to let you out of my sight._

 _Do you reckon we'll also have an Out-Of-Sight Fight? If you remember, I think I mentioned the fight your father and I had after the War ended, about how I couldn't let him out of my sight. My anxiety levels used to spike dangerously whenever I didn't know where he was._

 _At least, with you, you won't be able to walk around and wreak havoc until you're at least one, right? I think I'll have calmed down by then, but I can't make any promises. I'm certain I'll freak out when your father first puts you on a broom. I'll have to go to my parents' house when that happens, I'm sure._

 _I'm desperately trying not to be sexist, but I'll probably handle the whole flying thing a bit better if you do turn out to be a boy. God, does that make me awful?_

 _Oh, it does._

 _So, seeing as the news broke today, I didn't go into work. Martha Flooed and let me know that there was press a plenty at St Mungo's. They want statements and pictures, and I'm rebelling against all of that. And I'm convinced it will put stress on the both of us._

 _Unfortunately for your father, there was nothing he could do to avoid it all. They were waiting for him at the Ministry. He looked positively exhausted by the time he got home, which was amusing until he told me that he told the reporters that at least there was now actual proof that he'd had sex with Hermione Granger._

 _I sent a Stinging Hex straight at his genitals._

Alex winced, and then laughed.

Harry looked up. "What?"

"When the press found out about me, did you really tell them that - "

Harry cut his son off by bursting out laughing. "Oh Merlin," he coughed. "I forgot all about that."

"Did she really, you know...?" Alex asked, glancing down at his father's lap.

Harry laughed once again. "Oh yes, yes she did. And then she felt awful about it, because I was having her on."

Alex shook his head, the smile still on his face. "Brilliant."

Harry looked lost in the memory for a moment, before he said. "Yeah, she was."

A moment later, they were back with their own reading.

 _And then immediately felt awful about it when I realised he was joking. But really, he had to know what would happen if he was going to make a joke like that. It really is all his own fault._

 _I'm certain the press will end up contacting most of our family and friends to get information on you. I suspect they're all eager to find out what we're having; as am I. We'll find out, and then we'll name you. We've actually spent quite a bit of time thinking of names. Would you like to hear them?_

 _Boy's Names: Nicholas, Alexander, Rowan, James, and Samuel._

 _Girl's Names: Elizabeth, Charlotte, Grace, Catherine and Lily._

 _How do those sound to you? Would you be all right with spending your entire life being called by one of those? It puts a lot of pressure on a parent, you know? We have to make that huge decision for you and you have to wait until you're at least eighteen to get it changed if you don't like it._

 _But don't you worry. We'll pick wisely._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex closed his eyes for a moment. His parents had chosen wisely. Alexander James Potter was a great name. So much better than some of the other names he'd come across in the Wizarding World. _Those_ poor children.

"Dad?"

Harry looked up. "Hmm?"

"If I'd been a girl, what would you have called me?"

There was only a moment of hesitation before Harry replied. It was like he was recalling a memory, instead of having to think of one. "Charlotte Lily," he said easily. "We probably should have called you that either way. It'd probably fit your personality better."

Alex chucked a pillow at his father, which he easily deflected. "Women are powerful," Alex said.

"Exactly," Harry agreed.

Alex, somewhat like his father, felt uncomfortable with the underhanded compliment, though his cheeks remained their usual colour.

"So what made you decide on Alex then?" Alex asked.

Harry frowned. "Have I really never told you?"

"I've never asked."

Harry managed a smile. "Keep reading," he said. "She'll tell you why. It sounds a lot better coming from her anyway." A lot of things did.

"Okay."

Harry looked away first, prompting Alex to do the same.

 _31st October 2004_

 _What a day! Today was Halloween. It's a strange day for us, mainly because it brings back memories of sorrow, and memories of happiness._

 _Your father tends to go quiet around this time of year. He starts to think about his parents a lot, and about the life he could have lived had they lived. It's taken me a while to realise that this reaction of his has nothing to do with the fact that he's unhappy with the life we're living._

 _It's never been about that. Because, truly, this day also marks the reason why your father and I are even together the way that we are. I'm sure we'll tell you the story in greater detail, but this day, in our first year at Hogwarts, is the day that your father and Uncle Ron saved my life._

 _And I spent the next seven years repaying the favour. That's what your father says anyway, but I always argue with him about it. It was never about a life debt or whatever archaic thing the wizard's came up with. It's always been about that fact that I've never wanted to lose my best friend. I wouldn't survive it._

 _So, today, we visited Godric's Hollow just the two of us. Three of us, I mean. We visited the many graves of the people we lost. He didn't say all that much while we stood over his parents' tombstone, but then, well, you decided to join the party._

 _We felt you kick for the first time today. Well, I suppose, now that I actually know what a kick feels like - ouch, by the way - I realise that you've been moving for a few weeks now and I hadn't even known. Apparently that's how it is with first time pregnancies._

 _So you kicked for us in front of your grandparents. It was wonderful and exciting, and so heartbreaking all at the same time._

 _And yes, Auror Extraordinaire, once again, dropped to his knees and wept. He placed his hands over you and just talked. For almost half an hour, he just explained all he knew of his parents to you. It was therapeutic for all three of us._

 _It's up to us to make sure he comes back to us. I know it sounds like a lot of responsibility but, after what you accomplished today; I can already tell that you're up for the task, and you aren't even born yet._

 _When we got back from the graveyard, I had this insane craving for fried chicken. Thank you for that, by the way. Your father immediately went out to get some for me. I have him well trained._

 _He's actually still out while I write this. I haven't exactly told him what I'm doing writing all these letters. For all he knows, I've started with a journal again. I don't write all that much in front of him though, so it could even be a research notebook._

 _Oh, now I want cherries as well. Italian ones. Is that too picky?_

 _I wonder how your father would feel about a quick trip to Rome. Just for cherries... Now, see, that's my taking advantage of him._

 _Don't you worry. I'll control myself._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex yawned. He couldn't help it. And, seeing as Harry was not a psychopath, he followed his son with a yawn of his own.

Harry set his tome aside. "Want some tea?" he asked.

Alex nodded. "Please."

Harry knew he could have just summoned tea, but there was something therapeutic about making tea yourself. He stood and left the room, leaving Alex alone with his thoughts.

Alex leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Through these letters, Alex was offered different insight into the young lives of his parents. Their marriage. Their difficulties. All of it.

When Harry returned to the library, levitating a tray in front of him, Alex was asleep. It amazed him how much nothing had changed. Twenty seven years later and they were still father and son. Harry set down the tray on the coffee table and summoned a light blanket to cover his son.

Harry wasn't sure how he felt about _that_ particular journal, but he still removed it from his sons's grip and set it aside. Close enough for Alex to see as soon as he woke up.

Harry returned to his chair, sipped at his tea and continued to read.

* * *

Alex slept for almost an hour.

When he woke up, he was alone. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. When he got his wits about him, his eyes immediately searched for the journal.

He found it on his left side, with a note upon its top. Harry had to go out for a little while and he wasn't sure when he would be back.

Alex took it as license to leave the house without waiting for his father to return. The only thing that did tie him to this house _was_ his father. There would be no reminiscing in this house.

Alex wasted no time in returning to Potter Manor. He was relieved when he entered the house to hear the sound of music. Suddenly, he couldn't wait to see his wife.

Kate was in her practice room, lost in her music, when he found her. He had to stop himself from interrupting her, as desperately as he wanted to.

As quietly as he could, Alex made his way into the room. He recognised the moment she noticed him but she didn't stop playing. He sunk to the floor against the wall on her right side and said nothing. He loved to watch her play. There was something deeply soothing about it, and she looked positively majestic.

When Kate finished, she stood, returned her cello to its case and moved to sit down right beside her husband.

"When did you get home?" Alex asked, taking hold of one of her hands and squeezing it tight.

"A couple of hours ago," she answered quietly. "Baby and I caught a nap, and then we came down to play."

He nodded. "I like that piece," he said. "Tchaikovsky's Pezzo Capriccioso?"

"Louisa wants me to play it in the concert next month," she said. "I'm leaning towards a Bach Suite, but we'll have to see how it goes."

"Do you require accompaniment?" he asked lightly.

"If I did, I doubt they would allow my husband to accompany me," she said, squeezing his hand this time around.

"Well, the offer still stands."

Kate leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed. "How is Harry?"

Alex swallowed. "Well, besides the fact that he's obviously in love with my wife; he looks healthy enough."

Kate made a sound of disapproval. "How is he really?"

"The reason he wanted to get the boxes in the attic from you was because he wanted to find and give me the journal," he explained. "He doesn't think that he's done enough to prepare me for being a parent, and he's convinced that I would be better prepared if my mother was here instead of him."

Kate gasped. "What?"

"It's why he wants me to read the journal, I guess. The letters are about her pregnancy, and how she dealt with it. How she prepared for me; how they both did." Alex took a breath. "He thinks he wasn't enough of a father, Katie. Do you think he's always thought that?"

"He wouldn't be as great as he is if he didn't worry about it," she said.

"But for him to think that I think I want my mother here _instead_ of him," he said, his voice catching. "What kind of son have I been that he would think such a thing?"

"Alex," she said, making him look at her. "Maybe it's not about you. It's about who he is; how he's always been. It's who _he_ is. Not you."

Alex blinked back the sudden rush of tears to his eyes.

"But I suppose it's also part of who you are as well, because you're convinced it's your doing; the same way Harry's convinced it's his." She shook her head. "You really are related, aren't you?"

"Well, he has taught me everything that I know."

"Everything, huh?"

Alex grinned. "From your tone, I can tell that we're about to, hmm, how do they say, have a little sexy time."

Kate laughed. "My hormones _are_ really out of sorts."

"Your wish is my command, Mrs Potter."

"As it should be, Mr Potter."

This part of being a husband to such a beautiful woman came naturally to Alex. He _would_ give her everything she wanted. He didn't need to have read his mother's letters to know his father had done the same. Because, now he _knew_ ; he knew that just being who she was had been everything that _he_ wanted.

Alex was only able to get back to the journal much later - well after Kate fell asleep. Instead of going to his childhood bedroom, Alex made his way to his practice room. His mother's practice room.

It's wasn't the room as much as it was the piano. Alex could sit down at it and immediately feel closer to his mother. She was usually on his mind whenever he was composing. Every note he wrote had to be something she would be proud of.

Alex settled down on the long couch in the room, put his feet up and started to read what was now his constant companion.

 _6th November 2004_

 _Dear Baby Potter_

 _You're a boy! You're a boy!_

 _We went to our Muggle doctor for the last time today. From now on, our St Mungo's Healer will be Dr Anna Mess. She's delivered, I believe, almost six hundred babies, so I believe we will be in good hands. She's been around for a_ long _time._

 _Your father was nervous, but he was a lot more attentive this time around. When we saw you, I can't even explain what it was like. And then when the doctor told us you were a little baby boy... well, let's just say that Papa Potter wasn't the only one who cried. He's such a softie, that one._

 _You're a boy. We're having a baby boy. You're going to be a Potter boy._

 _I think your father was a little relieved, to be honest. We're probably not ready for a girl yet anyway. I'm very happy._

 _Can I tell you a little secret? I knew you'd be a boy. I don't know how I knew, but I just did. I had a feeling. And, now that we know who you are, I think I know what I want your name to be. I'll discuss it with your father first, and then I'll let you know. I hope you'll be happy with it._

 _I haven't told my mum yet. I think I'll go by the house tomorrow and tell both of them together. My dad was a little touched that I told my mum I was pregnant before I told him. I think he was joking around but I can't be too sure._

 _Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I found out what you are today, and I'm even more excited to meet you. I have this dream of meeting you sometimes. The first time I lay eyes on you. It makes my heart race just thinking about it. Four months to go now, little one._

 _As excited as I am to meet you; I expect you to take your time, all right? There's no rush. You stay in there as long as you need, okay? I'll handle the outside world for now._

 _Don't you worry. I'm patient enough to wait._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex could literally feel her excitement rolling off the page. He absently wondered if he would be as excited when he and Kate found out the sex of their own baby. At this point, he wasn't sure if he was leaning towards a boy or a girl. He made a mental note to ask Kate what the baby _felt_ like to her.

Though, he imagined, it was still too early to tell. It was late May, and their baby was joining them in October. In October, Alexander Potter would be a father, and Harry Potter would be a grandfather.

Hermione Potter would never be a grandmother.

And Alex suspected that that was what bothered his father so much.

 _19th November 2004_

 _Dear Baby Potter_

 _Tonight is going to be our first official night in the new house. I know I said we would be moving in at the beginning of the month, but your father got called away on another case in Morocco. He was gone for almost two weeks._

 _Your Uncle Ron and Uncle Neville helped me move things into the house, but I had the honour of moving the piano. I put it in my chosen room and, in that moment, it really felt like home._

 _Home._

 _We're home, Baby Potter._

 _Of course, though, we still have some unpacking to do. There were just things that I didn't want to subject to magic, if you know what I mean. I've tried really hard to hold onto the Muggle aspect of my life, and I've been lucky to have a husband like Harry Potter. It helps that he grew up as a Muggle._

 _But, I think, even if he hadn't; he still wouldn't look down on Muggles. His heart is too kind and his mind is too open. It's proven to be dangerous from time to time, but he is still the strongest person that I know. To have survived his life and come out halfway decent is a true testament to how strong his character really is._

 _You're going to love him._

Alex took a moment to calm himself. The love that his mother so clearly had for his father was overwhelming. He just knew that his father felt the same, if not more, and _that_ was why Harry could never move on.

Harry'd never allowed the loss to define him, but he'd never moved beyond it either. For as long as Alex could remember, Harry Potter was a widower, and he would always remain one.

 _We got gifts from Morocco too. There's the most adorable stuffed camel just waiting for you. Your father said he actually rode on one, and that he would never do it ever again. Sure, he can face off against dark wizards but he can't handle a horse on steroids (those are his words). Such a wuss._

 _He bought this set of different sized circular serving dishes, with sort of pyramid lids. They're painted beautifully, in such vibrant colours. They're traditional Moroccan, and he promised that he'll be making a shredded lamb dish soon, so we can use them. I suggested he do it for the housewarming party that Molly and Ginny are insisting we throw._

 _Don't they realise that I'm pregnant? We can't be throwing these big parties anymore. Maybe we'll just do a small dinner party. How does that sound? Would you be okay with that?_

 _I sometimes wonder how it is for you in there. I know you can hear me, which is why I'm always talking to you, and playing sweet music for you. Do you know it's me when I'm talking? Do you know your father's voice? Do you get scared?_

 _Because the world can be scary._

 _But don't you worry. I'll keep you safe._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex, undoubtedly, preferred the lighter themed letters. He liked to hear that she was happy living her life. As much as he wished he'd known her; he was just so glad that she'd existed at all.

Not because, without her, he wouldn't exist; but because the world needed to have had Hermione Granger. Even for the little while that it had.

 _10th December 2004_

 _Dear Baby Potter_

 _We made it safely passed six months, sweetheart. The Daily Prophet published an article about our first visit to St Mungo's and they're all glad to hear that Baby Potter is well and healthy._

 _They have, though, started speculating on your gender and, thus, your name. Your father and I sat for nearly twenty minutes laughing at the absurdity of it all. The names are positively ridiculous._

 _Which is why we finally decided on a name for you. After a bit of a discussion - in which we debated on which name would be your first and which would be your second - we picked Alexander James._

 _My grandfather's name was Alexander. He passed away when I was sixteen, and he was very important to me. He was a war hero, and he lived a long and happy life._

 _Your father's father's name was James. In my books, he was a greater hero. His sacrifice and his mother's sacrifice allowed me to have the wonder that is Harry Potter._

 _I wanted to honour him by calling you James, but Harry insisted on Alexander. I think, maybe, it might have been a bit strange for him having a to call his son by his father's name, even though he would never admit it. His stated reasons are probably still valid though. I knew my grandfather. I knew him, remember him and loved him._

 _We honour what we know, not what we wish we'd known. We honour the life we have and we don't live it halfheartedly. I'm not sure I agree with him, but I see where he's coming from. It's something we can both learn from him, I suppose._

 _So you will be Alexander James Potter, and you will be named after two of the finest men your father and I have known and wished to know. It puts a lot on your little shoulders, I know, to carry those names, but you'll grow into them. Your parents will help you._

 _Be thankful though. If the Daily Prophet were to name you, you'd pray to be eighteen from the moment you're born. I won't even quantify their suggestions by writing them down._

 _Our Auror Extraordinaire is currently in Paris. He's trying to get us to go out there and visit him as an early Christmas trip. I'm not convinced I_ want _to though, so we'll see. I'm getting bigger and bigger, and my feet hurt and I get irritable. I don't think travelling is for me right now, but then I can't help wondering when the next time will be that I can go on a little holiday._

 _Maybe you and I will be going to Paris after all. Would you like that? A little trip with mum? I think I should take advantage of the fact that where I go, you go as well._

 _Don't you worry. It won't always be that way._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex stared at the words. _It won't always be that way._ Did she know how right she would be? Where she went, Alex couldn't follow. Not yet, at least. He still had so much life left to live.

 _26th December 2004_

 _Dear Alex_

 _I just called you Alex. Is that okay? Should I stick with Alexander? It's odd. I just feel like you would make a great Alex. Alex Potter. It's a good, strong name._

 _So I just wanted to say Merry Christmas, and tell you a little bit about how your -super boring - parents spent the day._

 _I should tell you that you and I did end up going to Paris and we spent a few days with your father. He was busy with surveillance most of the time, but he did make time for sightseeing with us. Paris is stunning, and wonderful and so vibrant._

 _I was also really fascinated by the street plan of the entire city. I also went a little crazy with the shopping, which amused your father. I've never really been a girly girl so it was a surprise for both of us. I suppose the city just managed to do that to you._

 _Let's just say that you got more than just a kangaroo jumpsuit from that visit, little one. We've got all the clothes, but no wardrobe to put them in. Your father promised we'll start work on the nursery in the new year. It's our resolution._

 _So Christmas then. We had breakfast at home. He cooked, as usual. I was craving fried chicken again, but he'd already made waffles, so I had them together and wow! Even with the maple syrup. It's to die for._

Alex couldn't help his gasp. No wonder his father always looked amused whenever Alex wanted fried chicken. And the waffles.

All this time, his father knew, and said nothing about it.

 _After we ate, we rested a bit before we popped to Godric's Hollow to visit the graves. Visiting at Christmas has become a bit of a tradition for us. I intend to keep it going._

 _Then we went to visit my parents for Christmas lunch. You and I wanted fried chicken AGAIN but we managed to curb the craving. It's proving to be a problem, you know? Control yourself._

 _My dad makes some of the best eggnog, but I wasn't allowed to have any. How awful. We spent majority of the afternoon with them, exchanging gifts and stories. I've been a bit of a hermit lately so it was nice to see them. The Muggle side of my world gets overshadowed sometimes, and I worry about it._

 _I want you to know your Muggle family. We may be witches and wizards, but I never want to forget where I come from. Neither should you. Your mother is Muggleborn; please never be ashamed of it._

 _We went home for a little rest after that. I caught a nice long nap while your father visited Teddy and his grandmother, Andromeda. I would have gone with but I was too tired. You're tiring me out, little Alex._

 _When I was finally up for it, we went to the Burrow. Now, going to the Burrow on any day is already an event, but going to the Burrow on Christmas Day... Wow. That's always an experience._

 _There were so many people, I can't even list them all for you. I did spend most of the evening sitting at the kitchen table with your Aunt Ginny and your Aunt Luna. We're regular old ladies now. I'm the oldest of the three of us, and yet I'm the last one to have their first child. At least now we kind of know what to expect, right?_

 _The thing is that your father and I have never really been in a rush to start our family, or get married for that matter. We were already forced to grow up too fast with the War, and we just wanted some time to live and be young._

 _Dinner was amazing, as usual. Molly Weasley really pulled out all the stops for her family. All her growing boys were there to indulge. Including you. You're now a part of the little clique._

 _I can just imagine you several years from now, hanging around your father's legs while he jokes with Ron and George, and begging him to join in the Quidditch pickup game. I'm sure he'd send you to me to ask, just because he wouldn't have the heart to tell you that you're too young._

 _Passing about presents was absolute chaos. I get anxiety just remembering it._

 _I'll have you know that you received quite a few presents. I'll keep them safe for you, and you'll get them when you get here. Clearly, your father and I aren't the only ones excited for your arrival. You already have an entire family who loves you._

 _But don't you worry. Nobody loves you as much as your father and I do._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex hurt. Every part of him just hurt. He should have stopped at the last letter. This one hurt. This one, about family and love and happiness; it _hurt_.

Alex closed the journal. His eyes were tired and he knew that he had to call it a night, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He couldn't go to bed yet. There was something else he had to do.

He stood up and moved towards the piano. The room was already silenced so, when he eventually started to play, he didn't have to worry about waking Kate. He played a piece that he composed when he was just sixteen years old. He called it _Hermione's Life_ , and it was his absolute favourite out of everything he'd done since then.

It was a true testament to his feelings towards his mother. His mother who he idolised beyond reproach. He knew that she had her faults; he'd picked up on that enough in her journals, but there was nothing anyone could say to change his mind. His mother was special, and she would forever remain that way.

 _Hermione's Life_ was also the first piano piece that he converted and wrote music to for an entire orchestra. It was the first piece he played at his first concert at the Royal Academy of Music in London in his second year of study.

He imagined that his mother could hear it from wherever she was, and he imagined she was proud. Of him.

And of his father.


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

Alex's Monday was terrible. He was tired and irritable, and he was painfully unsympathetic with the other musicians at the Academy. All he really wanted to do was sit quietly and read the journal of letters but people insisted on visiting his office.

The problem was that there was a concert coming up and the composition expected from Alexander Potter was nonexistent. Everything he tried to write just sounded wrong. He'd been working on the baby's piece for more than a month and all he had was four lines that he liked.

He had to explain himself in a lunch meeting, which irritated him even more. The piece had to be ready, so that the orchestra could learn and rehearse.

Didn't they know that music couldn't be rushed?

By the time he made it home that night, he was bone-tired. He walked through the front door and smiled at the sound of music. It wasn't Kate's live playing, but it was one of her recordings. It filled the entire house, thereby filling him with warmth.

Alex found her in the kitchen. She was surrounded by what he would term 'a complete and utter mess.' There were dirty dishes everywhere, and ingredients strewn around. He was even too afraid to ask the question.

"Hi, babe," Alex said, getting her attention.

She turned sharply and dropped an empty metal bowl in the process. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Umm... I live here."

She frowned. "What time is it?"

"Just after six o'clock," he informed her. "What on earth are you doing?"

"I'm trying to make waffles," she confessed, sighing. "But the batter's so damn lumpy, and nothing's working, and I just... I want waffles."

Apparently waffles were a Alex Potter thing. It was his DNA, surely, that had made his mother, and now his wife want waffles.

"I'll make them," Alex offered. "With fried chicken?"

She frowned. "I know you're convinced that's a match made in heaven, but I'm not."

"You don't know what you're missing," he commented, as he made his way further into the kitchen. "Scoot then," he said. "Get out of my way."

Kate shot him a look before she shuffled away from the stove. She moved to sit down at the breakfast nook and watched him. "How was work?"

Alex visibly stiffened. "Fine," he said tensely.

"Still no inspiration?"

Alex merely nodded as he cleared up some space for himself on the counter. "I'm working on it," he said. "How was your day?"

She sighed. "It was all right," she said. "I'm struggling with the timing of a particularly tricky bit. My fingers just don't go fast enough."

"Are you about to blame the pregnancy?" he asked, grinning at her as he wiped down the counter. He reached into a cupboard to retrieve a fresh bowl to start a new waffle batter.

"No," she huffed. "I just have to practice more."

"More than your usual six hours?" he teased.

"Shut up," she huffed again, looking annoyed for a moment until her face broke out into a wide smile. "Why are you being so mean to me?"

"Because I love you."

Kate gestured for him to go to her, and she kissed him soundly, holding the fabric of his shirt tightly in her fists.

She released him first. "Have you had a chance to read any letters today?" she asked.

Alex returned to preparing the waffle batter. "I haven't, no," he said. "I think it's why I've been a little antsy all day. I'm torn between wanting to read it all in one go and staggering myself, because I don't want it to end. I never want it to end, but I know that it does. Of course it does."

She took a deep breath. "I talked to Harry today," she began.

"Wait," he said, putting a hand up. "Just how often do you actually talk to my father?" he asked.

Kate laughed.

"Seriously," he said. "Do I have to be worried?"

"We are just two of the people who love you unconditionally in this world, Mr Potter. Of course we talk." She couldn't stop a yawn. "And I was just confirming dinner on Thursday."

"He's still coming?"

"Of course."

Alex felt himself relax, though he wasn't even sure why. He wondered if his father would be uncomfortable returning to this house; this house that he couldn't stand to live in alone.

"How did Sarah take the news?" he suddenly asked. "I didn't even ask, sorry. How was your brunch with the little sister monster?"

"Oh, she almost fell off her chair," she told him. "It was hilarious, and lovely, and we shared a little cry."

Alex frowned. "This whole crying this," he said, shaking his head; "I don't think I get it."

She smiled. "I don't get it either," she admitted; "but it's just what you feel sometimes. A way to show the happiness."

He blinked. "I didn't cry when you told me you were pregnant."

"Not everybody cries when they're happy, Alex."

"But you know that I was happy?" he asked. "That I _am_ happy. Very happy."

She just nodded, choosing not to reply.

"I'm definitely terrified, but I'm excited as well."

"I know, Alex."

He nodded. "As long as you know."

Kate was worried about him. She wasn't sure that the letters were proving to be a good idea at this point. He just seemed so lost right now, and she didn't know what would happen when he did finish reading the journal.

The journal was constantly sitting in the back of Alex's mind. Straight after dinner, Kate disappeared into her practice room with Alex following her in shortly after. There was nowhere for him to sit. The room itself was completely empty, save for a single chair and Kate's cello.

Alex settled himself in the corner of the room, leaned against the wall and settled in to listen to her play. The first time she played the piece, he definitely heard the part she struggled with but he made no comment.

When she was done, she waited a beat, and then proceeded to play it again. Alex used it as license to read. Maybe he could find some inspiration from his mother.

 _3rd January 2005_

 _Dear Alex_

 _Happy New Year!_

 _Your father and I had a great New Year. You won't even believe what he had us do. He's adventurous and so spontaneous sometimes. It's proven to be a problem from time to time, which is something I'm sure you'll figure out for yourself._

 _Anyway, I don't know if it was his Auror connections, or if it's because he's Harry Potter, but he was able to get an International Portkey on short notice, and we went to New York to watch the ball drop._

 _It was amazing. We didn't go down into the crowds because, well, anything can happen in those large crowds, but we did hover in the night sky, on his broom. We were Disillusioned, don't you worry. It wonderful and I do definitely recommend it._

 _When you're much older though. Much, much older._

 _We didn't stay in New York though. They're new year did happen AFTER ours, technically, so we came home to sleep. Your father and I are both still on leave from work until the tenth, so we've decided to use this time to work on your nursery._

 _Traditionally, a boy equals blue, but we're thinking of something different. I don't want to subject you to a stereotype, so we're sticking with white. White furniture, white everything. We flipped a coin for the colour of the undertones. I picked red and he picked green._

 _I won._

 _So your carpet will be red, and your walls will have red-based designs. I suspect they'll be a bit of gold thrown in as well, just because you're going to be the son of two famous Gryffindors._

 _There's a lot of work to do and your father's determined to do it all by himself. Call him crazy if you want - I did - but he's being incredibly stubborn about it. I had to remind him that he's not a painter, and so he conceded to some outsourcing for the intricate designs._

 _I think he'll get your Aunt Luna in here just to spite me._

Alex was forced to look up when Kate stopped and swore.

"I can't get it," she hissed.

He didn't know what to say and, thankfully, she continued to play before he could open his mouth. He quickly realised that she wasn't even talking to him. It was as if he wasn't even in the room. Those were musicians for you.

 _We're going shopping for furniture tomorrow, which is always exciting. My mum and I made a list of everything we'll need, and I think your father may just bring her along in the end. It would save us all a lot of time._

 _Though, I think that I'm the one who knows what you would like best. And, I'm the one who's going to be spending the most time with you anyway, so I should have a greater say in what we get for you, right? Exactly._

 _You WILL have a rocking chair though._

 _Don't you worry. I'll make sure of it._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex paused his reading to glance up at Kate. She was still playing, her eyes closed and her body stiff.

"Relax," he found himself saying.

She opened her eyes but did not stop the movement of her hands. "What?"

"You know that your body has to be relaxed," he said. She did already know it, and he was surprised that she needed reminding. "You don't need me to tell you that."

She just nodded, and then closed her eyes again, losing herself in the sound of the music.

Alex dropped his gaze and resumed his reading.

 _14th January 2005_

 _Dear Alex_

 _This, my dear, is a letter of complaint. I am so tired. Exhausted. Work was hard today. There were so many new patients and I had to attend a conference in the afternoon to explain my research into the new disease discovered in Dakar. Did I mention that I'm just so tired._

 _And my feet hurt, and I have a headache, and all I want right now is fried chicken and a glass of WINE. My my, do I miss my wine._

 _And my husband is gone._

 _He left last night for Lima. I didn't want him to go but there was nothing I could say. I just watched him pack his bag, and then I watched him leave. I didn't even kiss him goodbye._

 _I mean, every time he leaves, I may never see him again. But I was so damn stubborn and I just let him leave._

 _I know I can't ask him to stay. I can't ask him to stop what he's doing just because I hate having him gone and I worry like a madwoman about him. He does good work. He does great work, and it would be so selfish of me to ask him to stop._

 _Okay, now I'm crying._

 _Stupid hormones._

 _Don't you worry. I'm sure I'll be all right._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex could feel her frustration and, suddenly, he understood why his father resigned from his Auror duties when he did. He was away so much and, when Alex needed him, he stayed. He couldn't help feeling a bit guilty about it. His father had been a rising star, and then he gave it all up for Alex.

He wondered if his mother did end up talking to his father about all these feelings. They had to have played a part in Harry's decision to quit being an Auror, surely.

 _27th January 2005_

 _Dear Alex_

 _Your Uncle Ron just brought me some hot chocolate. It's hard not drinking coffee, and I desperately need some right now. I feel like I've been awake for days._

 _It's just past midnight right now, and we're at St Mungo's. Why? Because your father is an idiot. He got himself injured in Lima, and he just arrived back in Britain. We're just waiting for him to wake up now, but I've been assured that the worst is over._

 _I think that I might have given you a little scare when Ron came to get me. I'd had a bad feeling all week and now I know why. I don't yet know what happened exactly but, from the looks on the other Auror's faces, it was clearly bad. I'm just seeing the aftermath of his recovery from his injuries._

 _He could have died. I know that much. He could have died, and I hadn't even kissed him goodbye. He could have died._

 _I'm so mad at him, and I'm so damn emotional right now. I thought we were past all of this uncertainty; all this danger. But apparently not._

 _Does all of this give me license to ask him to stop?_

 _We need him, Alex. And, if he ends up killing himself in this dangerous job, I will never forgive him. Never._ _I've even contemplated playing on his determination to be a good father by asking him if he wanted to leave you fatherless._

 _I won't. But I've thought about it. Does that make me a terrible person? It makes me feel horrible, and I quickly have to push the thought away._

 _The thing is that I don't know if I'm thinking it because of you, or because of me. Or because of him, really. Wouldn't it just be the biggest injustice though? He survived Voldemort, only to die as a result of some failed Auror mission. It's so stupid._

 _I'm sorry. I'm feeling a bit bitter right now. And I'm terrified. I don't even think that I want to be here right now. I need to go home. I'm going to go home. I should get you home. We need rest. It's not good for us sitting here like this._

 _Don't you worry. You will always be my number one priority._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Clearly, this was not a good time for his mother. For his parents.

Alex looked up to see Kate set down her cello. She removed her jersey to reveal a t-shirt underneath. It was Alex's favourite t-shirt by far. On its front, it said, 'I only date wizards.' She could wear it only inside the house, really, but he absolutely loved it.

Harry _made_ it for her the week after Alex introduced his father to his Muggle girlfriend. Alex and Kate had both been nervous about it, and Harry did all he could to make sure that his son knew that it was okay with him. As long as Alex was happy.

Alex guessed that that was the moment that Kate fell in love with his father.

"Everything all right?" Kate asked.

"My dad got injured in the January before I was born," he explained. "My mum was, umm, feeling a lot of emotions at the time. She was worried about what she would do if anything ever happened to him. She thought it would be selfish to ask him to stop the work he was doing."

"As an Auror?"

He nodded. "It's no secret to the world that he's escaped death so many times already, but I think the fact that she was pregnant made it worse. He could have died."

Kate looked thoughtful. "It must be weird for you, reading that and hearing her voice the fears that became your dad's reality."

"They were so in love, Katie," he said, breathing out. "I'm overwhelmed by it. They were so young, and so happy, and so imperfect and perfect at the same time. The way she sees him; the way that she talks about him.

"He's always just been my dad, you know? So strong and aware and broody and attentive. And to see him the way that she saw him; he's so much more."

Kate waited for him to continue.

"He's selfless and humble, and he's always done everything for me. He's made sacrifices in his career and life, and he still thinks he wasn't enough. How can he think that? How can _I_ allow him to think that?"

Kate didn't know if she should go to him. There were things he was working through and she wanted to help him but, right now, she didn't know how.

Alex sighed. "I have to keep reading," he eventually said, coming to the only conclusion he could.

"Okay."

He gave her a small smile, but he still looked somewhat distracted. "I love you," he said quietly, before he dropped his head. He didn't start reading until she started playing again.

 _5th February 2006_

 _Dear Alex_

 _I have a bit of a confession, and I hope you won't hate me for it. I've always wanted to be honest with you, and that isn't about to change._

 _I'm not ready for you._

We're _not ready for you._

 _Tonight is supposed to be my baby shower, but I'm not feeling in a celebratory mood. I haven't seen your father since I left St Mungo's the last time I wrote. I can't bring myself to see him. I don't know what I'll end up saying to him if I do. I'm still mad at him, but I just miss him so much._

 _Your Uncle Ron told me that he was discharged a few days ago. I'm not at home with him, even though I desperately want to be. I don't know if you'd understand, because I don't quite understand it myself._

 _Things have been a little up in the air lately. I'm at home with my parents and your father hasn't tried to see me. I suspect he's still getting his strength up. His core was almost completely depleted trying to heal himself, which basically means that, if he were a Muggle, he'd be dead._

 _I keep thinking that I'm overreacting, but my mum assures me that I'm not. I have a right to be scared, and a right to deal with it the way that I need to. I know I have to talk to him, but I don't know how. He's finally found something that he loves to do, and I can't bring myself to take it away from him._

 _I can't bring myself to say the words to him that, if he loves us more, he would stop. I can't do it, but I want to, and I hate myself for it._

 _I handled it better before I found out about you. This is not your fault. It's mine. It's ours. We thought we were ready. I thought we were ready, but I was wrong._

 _I was wrong, and I'm terribly sorry that we're dragging you into all of this._

 _Maybe we're too young. Maybe we should have waited longer, I don't know._

 _We're one month away from your arrival, and the last thing I want is for you to come into a world where things are still so rocky._

 _So don't you worry. I'll sort this all out._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex closed his eyes for a moment. He could feel _everything_ , and he hated it. It was so heartbreaking, really. His parents had gone through quite a bit before his arrival. All her worries, the way she wrote about them; they gave him anxiety, even twenty seven years later.

 _14th February 2005_

 _Dear Alex_

 _We're back home!_

 _I know I said that I would sort things out, but I needn't have bothered. Your father did everything. Without my having to say so, he recognised what the problem was and fixed it._

 _It turns out that, even before all of this drama I caused, he already put in a request to work only local cases, which would have him work solely in Britain. It would have gone into effect as soon as you were born. He refrained from telling me until today, for some reason. Had me all worried and stressed out for nothing._

 _It's still a dangerous job, but it would keep him home. And plus, most wannabe dark wizards usually fail. Just the thought of the wizard who killed Voldemort searching for you is enough to instil the fear in them. It's a compromise I feel comfortable with._

 _He's recovered well apparently, but he still looked quite a sight when he showed up at my parents' house earlier this morning and practically demanded to see me. I didn't even realise how much I missed him until I laid eyes on him. He looks like he's aged in the time we've been apart, and he looked positively miserable._

 _I was sitting up on my bed when he found me, and he dropped to his knees and just stared at the both of us. I think he was shocked by how big am. Even I'm shocked by it. I mean, I can't even remember what my feet look like. For all I know, they aren't even there anymore, but your father assures me that they are._

 _We talked for hours. He eventually climbed onto the bed with me and he cradled us in his arms. I've never felt so safe in all my life. Did you feel it? Did you feel him come home to us?_

 _Then we napped. I nap a lot, apparently._

 _When I woke up, he practically kidnapped me, clearly stating to both me and my parents: "I'm taking my wife home." It was quite amusing and adorable. And several other things, but we won't talk about that._

 _So here we are. You and I are back home, and your father is busy in the kitchen preparing what he termed a romantic Valentine's dinner of fried chicken and waffles. He's also wearing his ridiculous kangaroo outfit, which is hilarious._

 _He didn't want me out of his sight, so you and I are sitting at the breakfast nook - it's still a wonder how I got up onto this stool when I can't even put on my own shoes - in the kitchen with our Auror Extraordinaire._

 _While I've been away, he finished up your nursery, and it's perfect. It's a room I would want to bring you home to. It's core colour is white, as I said, and then there's the red and gold. I wasn't kidding about your being a product of true Gryffindors._

 _Though, don't feel any pressure to become a Gryffindor, okay? It won't break our hearts if you get Sorted into a different House, or something stupid like that. There's no pressure from us, so try not to focus on the pressure sure to come from everywhere else, all right?_

 _It'll be hard for you, being the son of Harry Potter, but I've got a plan to shield you from most of it. I think you'd do well in a Muggle primary school until you're old enough for Hogwarts. Anything magical you need to know, your father and I can handle. We're both pretty clued in with that whole part of our lives._

 _I also intend to expose you to Muggle things. I think I talked about making sure you explored the Arts and Music of the Muggle world. I want you to be fully assimilated to both worlds, because you are, essentially, a product of both worlds, and it's important to me that you don't stray to far from either one._

 _I just told him all of this, and he nodded without commenting. There he goes again with the whole giving me everything I want thing. Oh, don't you just love him?_

 _And I've also just told him what this journal really is. He seemed pleasantly surprised, and he asked if I write about him._

 _If only he knew... He'd probably have a heart attack if he knew just how much I've already told you. He hates it when the focus is on him, but he's so cute when you embarrass him. His cheeks go pink and he forgets how to speak. Sometimes he just says 'shut up' repeatedly, which is hilarious._

 _I do it on purpose more often I should. I'm sure you'll end up doing the same._

 _Don't you worry. It'll be our little secret._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex was quick to make a vow to himself to increase the number of times he embarrassed his father. Just to honour his mother. He couldn't help the smile on his face.

"What has you smiling like that?" Kate asked, interrupting Alex's thoughts.

"Have you ever noticed what happens to my Dad when he's embarrassed?" he asked, his smile only growing.

"If you're referring to his pink cheeks and the fact that he turns into a mumbling mess, then yes."

Alex laughed. "My mum loved to embarrass him because of it."

"I can imagine why that was," Kate said, returning his smile. "It's rather funny, really. I mean, he's supposed to be this super stoic leader of men and what not, and he can barely handle a compliment."

"Leader of men, huh?"

Kate shrugged. "He's a War veteran, and he's trained every single Auror to come out of that Academy since you were six years old. Leader of men."

 _Leader of men_. It was true. On top of being Alex's father, Harry Potter was, somewhat single-handedly, responsible for the calibre of Aurors being produced by the Auror Academy. It made Alex feel incredibly proud.

His father only went back to work when Alex started primary school. Alex attended a Muggle school as his mother wanted, and all the magical learning he required came from his father. It wasn't exactly _normal_ , especially given that he was the _Chosen One's_ son, but the situation offered him anonymity.

It was also at Muggle school that Alex first learned to play the piano. As a child, he'd always felt somewhat connected to the piano in their house, and he never did understand his father's reaction when he asked if he could take lessons. All Harry had done was nod and then excuse himself.

Now, Alex suspected that his father might have left the room to cry, but he didn't want his son to see him. For years, and even now, Harry Potter protected his son from the pain of the tragic loss from which he would never recover.

"I once asked him if he was disappointed that I didn't follow him into the Auror Corps, you know?" Alex said. "He wasn't."

"I could have told you that."

Alex let out a light laugh. "He told me that part of the reason he became an Auror was to emulate his father. He didn't regret his decision, but he knew he did it for the wrong reasons. He didn't want me feel obliged to do the same as him, but I think he knew that I followed music to emulate my mother."

"Do you regret it?"

"No."

"Your dad loved his job," Kate said. "You love yours. If it came down to it; if you were ever forced to give up your job for me, or for our baby, would you?"

"In a heartbeat."

"Your dad taught you that," she gently said.

He chuckled. "Seriously, how often do you talk to him? It's okay. You can tell me."

Kate just smiled at him before resuming her playing position, and starting her piece again.

Alex watched her for a moment, before he returned his attention to the journal.

 _1st March 2005_

 _Dear Alex_

 _It's officially March, which means that it's officially your birthday month._

 _Today also happens to be your Uncle Ron's birthday. Your father and I are going to head to the Burrow later tonight for a little dinner party. Molly insists on holding all family birthdays at the family home, and none of us has plans to say otherwise._

 _To be honest, I'm not that keen on going anywhere tonight - or until you're born. I just feel so big and fat and ugly. And my feet are swollen. I'm big enough to pop, I reckon. Are you ready to come out of there? Because I'm ready to have you out. I'd like to see my feet and stand up and sit down without requiring a five-step procedure._

 _I don't think I mean it though. I think I'll miss being pregnant. It's been nice constantly having you with me. Like this, I get to keep you safe; I can protect you. But once you're out here, my job gets a lot more difficult._

 _I always thought that nine months was such a long time, but it's just flown by. You're going to be here soon, and we'll officially become parents. That's going to be a huge change for us. My mum is going to stay with us for the first few weeks, just to help us adjust, and to make sure that we get sleep._

 _Your father had me prepare a hospital bag last night. Well, really, I sat on our bed and just pointed to things as he packed the bag. It's really out of character for him to be so prepared. He wasn't impressed when I mentioned that to him._

 _Dr Mess is on call from now on. We picked out your coming-home outfit, which is not your kangaroo outfit, in case you're wondering. Your room is also waiting for you. So, really, whenever you want out of there, we're ready for you._

 _I'm ready for you now._

 _I'm sorry about our little crisis. I think it was something we needed to go through to get to this point. I've already gone on maternal leave and your father gets off as soon as I go into labour._

 _Can you believe that the Daily Prophet has started something of a countdown. They don't know your exact due date but, given my size, they've managed to guess. They're sure that it's any day now. As am I._

 _I just have a feeling._

 _I had this thought the other day. I'd just dreamt of going into labour, which I'm a little afraid of, if I'm being honest. Your father and I have attended the necessary classes but I'm sure that it's all going to go the dogs when we actually get in there. So my thought was, you know, seeing as you ARE Harry Potter's son, don't you just want to Apparate out of there?_ _It would save us all a lot of trouble._

 _I'm kidding. Sort of. I know it's going to hurt. I'm definitely no stranger to pain but, you know, I'm not sure I believe people who say that giving birth is a beautiful thing._

 _We'll see how much I love you once I have to push you out of, umm, there._

 _Don't you worry. I really am kidding. Sort of._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex let out a laugh.

Kate glanced at him, her playing coming to a gentle stop. "What?"

"How do you feel about actually having to give birth?" he asked.

She tilted her head. "Well, one of us has to do it," she teased. "And I'm afraid you don't have the right parts for the job."

"Funny."

She grinned at him. "Why are you asking?"

"She was a bit worried about it," he told her. "The _process_ of it."

"Understandable."

He smiled. "I think I've reached the last letter before my birth," he said. "I don't know if she wrote much after that." He absently paged through the journal, relieved to see more writing, but not as much as he hoped.

"You must have been a handful."

He faked a laugh.

"Maybe we should call it a night then?" she offered. "Will you come to bed with me, Mr Potter?"

He cocked his head to the side. "I'm sorry, but I'm married."

She laughed out loud. "Funny."

Alex stood up, tucked the journal under his arm and moved towards her. He helped her with the cello and carefully sealed it in its case.

Together, they left the room and went about getting ready to turn in for the night. Alex did the usual checks on all the house doors and windows before retiring to bed. Kate wasn't asleep yet, so she snuggled in nice and close to him when he climbed in beside her.

Without giving it a thought, Alex's hand came to rest on her abdomen.

"Katie?" he whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Do you feel safe?"

"I do," she said truthfully. "As long as I'm with you, I do."

"Don't you worry," he said, his breath warm against her skin. "I'll always be here. For both of you."


	5. Chapter 5

**V**

Alex's Tuesday went about as well as his Monday. He went in to the Academy with the intention of writing _something_ but he kept drawing a blank.

The few lines of the baby-inspired piece were all he had, but nothing seemed to be growing from them. It was proving to be a problem and Alex's supervisor, Jack Hawthorne, expected a piece by the end of the week.

Alex didn't know if he could produce.

In his mind, he was sure that he wouldn't be able to write another note of music until he finished with the letters. It was that simple.

So, once he was finished with his last student meeting of the afternoon; he moved from his desk, settled on his couch and opened the journal. He's been a little hesitant to read on, given that he was reminded that the journal would come to an end.

But, for his own sake, he _had_ to finish.

 _9th March 2005_

 _My dear, dear baby Alex_

 _Welcome home, sweetheart. We're finally home, you and I._

 _On the 4th of March of this wonderful year, I gave birth to the most perfect, healthy baby boy. Ten toes and ten fingers. You came in at 2.9kg, and you have dark hair and these large, striking green eyes. You're not exactly a carbon copy of your father, but it's pretty close. Your hair is closer to the colour of mine, and you have my nose, and your father's pouty lips._

 _Let's hope you have my brain as well._

 _Don't tell you father I said that, even though I'm sure he'll agree with me. I hope you don't end up with my teeth. That would be unfortunate._

 _We watch you sleep. I hope that doesn't sound as creepy as it usually would. It's just that it's absolutely amazing that you exist. Is it too romantic of me to think of you as a product of the love your father and I share for each other?_

 _You sleep a lot, by the way, so we spend a lot of time watching you. We take turns, really, because my mum made it clear to us that it's important for us to sleep when you sleep, if we don't want to burn ourselves out._

 _I'm so happy, Alex. I really am. And I think I get it now. Giving birth to you; it really was a beautiful thing. Your father was in there with me the entire time. He handled it so well. He's quite good in chaotic situations, and this was one of them._

 _I have to admit that I opted for a bit of pain relief. But not too much. Apparently it's not good to be completely numb. And apparently all sorts of embarrassing things can happen. I just hope your father still finds me remotely attractive after having seen all of that._

 _You're nursing well, by the way. It's a truly special connection that you and I have. Your father will never understand it, but that's all right. The two of you will have many years to be father and son._

Alex stopped reading immediately. They had had many years to be father and son, because Harry was still here. He made sure to be around for _all_ of it.

 _Sometimes your father just disappears, and I find him with you, just watching you. He has this look on his face that I can't explain. He just looks so content, so happy and satisfied with this life, and I gave that to him. I gave you to him, and it's everything he's ever wanted. I can't even explain to you what that feels like._

 _He keeps saying thank you. Constantly. Every time he looks at me, it's as if the eyes are saying the words as well. He loves us so much, Alex. It's been like heaven._

 _Don't you worry. I intend for it to be like this always._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex felt a bit giddy. He'd brought her happiness. It was amazing to know that he was responsible for bringing a smile to her face.

 _16th March 2005_

 _Dear Alex_

 _I'm tired. I'm so tired. I get it, you're a growing boy and all, but do you really have to drink so much. My mum said that it's a good idea to keep you on breastmilk for at least a year, but I don't think I can do it. One full year? It's too long._

 _You are, thankfully, a rather quiet baby. You really only fuss when you're tired, hungry or need a diaper change. Your eyes are so focused as well; it's terribly disarming. It's like you see everything._

 _You've been sleeping in our bedroom so we can keep a close eye on you. My mum sleeps with me, and your father's brought a mattress into the room. We're all getting really up close and personal these days. Look at you; you've brought us all together._

 _Your aunts and uncles are going to come and see you tomorrow. I've spent quite some time picking out the perfect outfit for you. I'm such a typical mother. I just want everyone to see how cute you are. Because you are. You're entirely adorable, and I'm not just saying that because I'm your mother. I'm not biased. You're cute._

 _Just, you know, try not to vomit on your outfit. You've been quite good about it because it turns out that your father's a burping God. He can just get it out of you so well; it looks like it even surprises you. I didn't think I could find burping so amusing, but it is. It really is._

 _Your father's also a machine at getting you to sleep. My mum and I call him the baby whisperer. I hope he holds onto his talents for a really long time. We're definitely going to need them as you get older._

 _So, now that you're actually asleep, I'm going to get some sleep as well._

 _Don't you worry, though; I'll be up when your eyes open again._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mum_

Alex just knew that his father would be an amazing grandfather. The way he'd adjusted to being a father proved as much to Alex. Not that he needed any proof. It was something that he already knew.

 _4th April 2005_

 _Dear Alex_

 _You are officially one month old now. Your father and I had ourselves a little party. We've survived an entire month of being parents, and nothing's happened to you. We haven't dropped you, and we haven't had to take you in to see your doctor._

 _All is well. I'm less tired than I usually am. I think I've adjusted to the lack of sleep quite well. I'm just pretending that I'm back in school again, using most of my time to study. Now I'm using my time to be a mother._

 _The three of us went for a little walk earlier. It's starting to warm up a bit but we still had you nicely wrapped up. All we could see was your little pink face. Have I told you how adorable you are?_

 _Your father goes back to work on Wednesday. I think he's keen to get back, but I'm sure he'll miss you. Every new thing you do is like an entire experience for the two of us. Even the sounds you make when you're asleep fascinate us._

 _I find myself wondering about your dreams. You haven't experienced enough life to have nightmares yet, right? And, technically, you dream only of the faces you've seen, and you've only seen faces of people who love you, so I'm hoping to keep the nightmares from you for a long time._

 _My favourite thing that you do is quite a funny thing really. You mainly do it when you're asleep. I think it's to do with your dreams, but you sort of get a scare, and your arms lift up for a surprised moment, like you're a little zombie. It makes me so happy; I don't even know why. It's just another thing you may never understand about your mother._

 _As for your father; I'm afraid we may never understand him._

 _Don't you worry though; I'll make notes on everything I've already discovered._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex took note of the shortness of the recent letters. Having a baby must have been time-consuming. He just appreciated that she kept them up even after he was born.

 _4th May 2005_

 _Dear Alex_

 _I was surprised by how long it's been since I wrote. I'm sorry about that. I've been busy living this wonderful life with you._

 _You're two months old today. We made it, little one._

 _I talk to you a lot. I read that it's important not to use what's called a 'baby voice' because we don't want you to mimic that. You'll learn faster that way. But, remember, no pressure._

 _I also play for you almost every day. We have a little routine going, you and I. I haven't gone back to work yet. I'm supposed to go back next month, but I haven't yet decided if I will. I'm enjoying being with you a little too much. I think your father's jealous of it, which is totally understandable. You're a delight._

 _You're always looking around, making eye contact with both of us. You're also smiling, which is amazing. You have the cutest little smile. Your father almost fell over the first time you smiled at him. We're tracking your little milestones, and we're so happy that you've turned out as healthy as you have._

 _You also coo a bit. Not yet on cue, but it's a welcome break from your crying to communicate. Mummy hears you, sweetheart. I hear you, and I love you._

 _We're about to go for a walk. The fresh air really is lovely for us both. It's not healthy being cooped up inside all day. It's also good for you to see new people and experience new things._

 _Don't you worry. I'll make sure to keep that up._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex absently checked the clock on the wall of his office. It was just gone four o'clock, and Alex contemplated calling it a day and going home. He could, because there was no need for him to be here anymore. Maybe he could visit his dad.

No. His dad was at work. And his wife was in rehearsals until at least six o'clock. All Alex knew was that he didn't want to be here anymore.

So, packing up his things, Alex left the Academy and Apparated to Godric's Hollow. He wanted to visit his mother.

The graveyard wasn't empty of people, but nobody paid any attention to him. Alex didn't exactly look like his father, and he'd been a part of the Muggle world long enough not to be relevant in Wizarding society.

He made his way towards his mother's grave. He didn't have to watch where he was going; he already knew the way by heart.

When he approached her tombstone, Alex slowed down. He hadn't visited her since Christmas, and he felt a little guilty about it. They were actually approaching the anniversary of her death, but he just wanted to see her now.

Her tombstone was crafted beautifully, and the plot beside her was empty, just waiting for his father. Harry Potter would be buried beside his wife. He absently wondered what his tombstone would say. Alex would probably end up in charge of it.

His father had been in charge of his mother's, and it showed.

 _Hermione Jean Potter_

 _19 September 1979 - 18 June 2006_

 _Loving daughter, devoted wife,_

 _proud mother and amazing best friend._

 _"You said to us once before,_ _that there_ _was time to turn back if we wanted to._

 _We've had time, haven't we?"_

Alex immediately sat down and leaned against the side of the tombstone. He felt close to his mother when he was here, and he vowed to visit more often. He settled into place and pulled out the journal, but he didn't start reading it yet.

"Hi, Mum," he said softly, practically whispering. "I know it's been a while. I'm sorry about that. Things have been happening lately. See, the thing is, Mum, I'm going to be a father. Kate and I, we're going to have a baby. A baby.

"I'm scared, Mum, but you were too, weren't you? I've been reading your letters that you wrote. Thank you for them. Thank you for all of it." He sighed. "Do you mind if I just sit here and continue to read?" He paused, waiting for a moment. "Thanks."

 _21st May 2005_

 _Dear Alex_

 _Oh Alex. Guess where I am right now? St Mungo's. Harry Potter got injured again._

 _This time, though, it really wasn't his fault. In fact, I think it's mine. See, we were over at the Burrow today, and your father and the rest of the boys decided on a game of Quidditch. Of course, your Aunt Ginny joined in, and your Aunt Angelina was roped in as well. As a result, t_ _he match turned quite heated._

 _Anyway, your father was up there, waiting to find the Snitch - he's a great Seeker, by the way. I might have distracted him. I'm sorry. I just had to tell him that you actually laughed, and he was distracted, which meant he wasn't paying attention when a bludger headed his way._

 _So we're here. I was able to stabilise him once he hit the ground, but there are potions at the hospital that we needed. I'm sure that he's going to hold this over my head for quite some time. At least he's being a good sport about it._

 _We left you at the Burrow with Molly. She absolutely adores you, by the way. I think you're like your father with your love for women with red hair, by the way. I'm trying not to hold it against you, but it hurts a little. Just a little._

 _I'm kidding. Sort of._

 _He probably won't ever tell you but your father and your Aunt Ginny had a bit of a romance near the end of our sixth year at Hogwarts. I'm convinced that, if we hadn't gone on the Hunt when we did; our lives would be so different right now. I'm still convinced that he still has a thing for redheads._

Alex laughed. He had to. It was true that his father had never told him about his school romance with his aunt. It didn't surprise him that Harry had been hush hush about it. Everything that came before the love for his mother didn't matter. Alex knew that.

And it was interesting for Alex to see that his mother, even after years of being with his father, was still worried. Each of them had their fears of not being enough, and they both made sure the other was reminded that they were.

 _Maybe it's a Potter thing. We'll see if it's true when you decide on your spouse then._

Alex wouldn't say that Kate's hair was red exactly. Not like his Aunt Ginny's or Rebecca's. It was more of a strawberry blonde, but he wondered if it counted. But then again, Alex didn't marry her for her hair, and he suspected that his father hadn't married his mother for her hair either.

 _Oh, a nurse just came by to tell us that your father's fine, and he's awake. I'm going to go in and see him now. I'm sure he'll have a few things to tease me about now. Wish me luck._

 _Don't you worry. I can take care of myself._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex couldn't help his smile. He loved the fact that, even though they were parents, they didn't become too serious. He hoped that he and Kate would be the same.

 _4th July 2005_

 _Dear Alex_

 _It seems to me that I tend to write to you when you reach your milestones. You're four months old today, and you're a babbling little bundle of joy. I'm sorry I don't write as often. It feels like it's been ages since I last even looked at this journal._

 _You're so inquisitive, your eyes constantly dart about, searching and learning. I don't think that I've seen another human being so excited about the fact that you rolled over. You should have seen your father. He practically leaped up off the ground. We're so proud of you, little one._

 _So, your father is turning twenty five at the end of the month, and I've been trying to figure out what we should do for him. He hates being the centre of attention, but I can't help it. He'll be twenty five. Finally, we'll be the same age, if only for a little while. I sometimes hate that I'm older than him. He absolutely loves to call me a cougar. Can you imagine? That awful, awful man._

 _I also have to think of a present, even though he's repeatedly told me that I've given him the best present he could have ever asked for: a family. For certain, I thought he'd say_ you _, but he said_ a family _, which was said to include me. That wonderful, wonderful man. Didn't I tell you he was great?_

 _He's been in Glasgow for a few days. There's an Auror training camp being held there, so it's just you and me. It's the first time he's been away from the both of us, but he calls every day, and the two of us talk to him before you go off to sleep. You're a pretty good sleeper, and it's our intention to maintain your sleep schedule._

 _Our entire lives revolve around you, and I wouldn't have it any other way. If I had it my way, that would never change. And, because of it, I've decided to hold off on going back to work. I had a long discussion with your father about it, and I decided it was what I wanted._

 _I still do my research from home, so, you know, it's not all doom and gloom. Your father set up a Potions Lab for me in the basement of the house. I'm still working on that hair potion that I mentioned. From what I see of your hair now; you're going to need all the help you can get._

 _Don't you worry, Alex. I've got you._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex absently ran a hand through his hair. It was black, but looked dark brown in the sunlight. It was more like Harry's, in that it was always messy, just refusing to stay down.

In the end, his mother never got around to finishing the potion. She ran out of time.

 _1st August 2005_

 _Dear Alex_

 _Your father's finally twenty-five years old. I'm no longer a cougar, though not technically. It just makes me feel better knowing that he's the same age as me. Call me crazy; I don't care._

 _We had a dinner party at the Burrow last night. It was quite nice, nothing too fancy, which is what he likes._

 _After that, though, I kidnapped him. You went home with my parents for a sleepover while your parents had a nice night off of responsibility. I love you, I do; but it was amazing to just be out on the town with my significant other. Having a baby really can put a dampener on romance._

 _We still love you, of course, but we have to remember to love each other. Remember that, when you have kids, all right._

 _I know the last thing you want is to hear about your parents' sex life, so I'll spare you the gory details. Just know that your parents truly do love each other, and don't you worry. That'll never change._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex didn't know why, but it was such a relief to hear the truth of their love. He knew, without a doubt, that his father loved his mother, and now he was seeing just how much she had loved him in return.

Sure, in her journals before they got married, she's alluded to it all, but this was different. This was Harry and Hermione as they were, a power couple beyond measure, who loved each other so fiercely that, to this day, Harry Potter was still devastated by the death of his lovely wife.

 _19th September 2005_

 _Dear Alex_

 _Okay, so it seems to me that the time between letters just keeps increasing. I'm too busy living life, I suppose. It's one of the reasons I stopped writing journals in the first place._

 _Today's a sad day though, little one. Mummy is officially a cougar once more. It's been a good day though. I woke up to breakfast in bed. Can you guess what it was? Waffles!_

 _Your father had to go into work though, so you and I spent the morning with my mum._

 _I'm twenty-six now, but I feel so much older._

 _You're making all sorts of sounds now, and you reach and grab for things. You especially love your father's glasses. You can sit up for a while now, and your development is great. We talk to you a lot, and you try to respond. I'm sure it all makes sense to you and sometimes you look so serious, as if you're telling us something extremely important. You are truly adorable._

 _We're headed to the Burrow in a little while. As soon as your father gets home, he'll get ready, and then we'll head over. It's my first birthday as a mother, and the first one I get to celebrate with you._

 _Don't you worry. I won't go too overboard._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex moved on to the next letter immediately. He hated that they were getting shorter and shorter.

 _27th October 2005_

 _Dear Alex_

 _Again, it's been more than a month. This is terrible form. I'm sorry about that. I suppose I'm writing now because your father's starting to go quiet. He gets this faraway and thoughtful look in his eyes, and I just want him to come back to us._

 _It doesn't help that he just wrapped up a particularly gruelling case at work. I won't go into the details, but there is now yet another orphan in this world. He takes these kinds of cases hard because he believes that it's up to him to save everyone, and he regards it as a personal failure when he can't. He can't handle what he believes is failure._

 _Too many people have died in his life, and he wants to save everyone he can._

 _So I'm trying to figure what to do. I don't think trying to convince him to talk to me about it will help - he'll just blush and then disappear to some empty room. And brood. He broods a lot._

 _Now that you're crawling, you do keep us very occupied. I didn't realise how fast a baby could crawl. You're a little speed demon, did you know that? We've had to baby-proof quite a bit because you're still so inquisitive. It was a lot easier to keep track of you when you couldn't move by yourself._

 _Sometimes I ask you to sit still, just to see if you will. You don't, by the way._

 _Don't you worry, though; all in good time._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex checked his watch. Could he fit in one more before he had to head home? Yes, yes he could.

 _1st November 2005_

 _Dear Alex_

 _Halloween was actually rather pleasant. We decided on staying in, which is always nice. We all dressed up as kangaroos, of course. We looked great. I forced him into a family picture. It'll be our family Christmas card, I've decided. You looked so darn cute._

 _And, despite what your father thinks, he still looked very handsome._

 _It was a good night for us. We talked quite a bit. Remember, Alex, communication is essential in relationships. Don't stew, and make sure that you never go to bed angry._

 _So you've started pulling yourself up, trying to stand. It's SO cute. You put your little bottom up in the air, but you can't quite get there. Your father's been trying to show you, and he's getting you to use the couches and the table to help yourself up. I'll keep you posted on your progress._

 _Don't you worry. You'll get there._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

It was too short. One more.

 _13th November 2005_

 _Dear Alex_

 _You almost stood up today, but then fell back on your bottom and looked as surprised as ever. I know it's horrible of me but I find it so funny. I actually giggle every time, and then you look at me all confused about why I'm laughing and I feel guilty. I know you don't understand why I'm laughing but, really, Alex, I can't help it sometimes._

 _Your father was sad that he missed it. He's been working really hard on this case that has him pulling several all-nighters. He reaches these points of desperation sometimes, when things just don't make sense to him. He gets a little snappy as well, but I've learned to get used to it._

 _I draw the line when it comes to_ you _though. You've done nothing to deserve his foul mood._

 _I definitely gave him a piece of my mind._

 _Don't you worry, Alex; Mummy will always protect you._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex didn't like this. Why were the letters getting so short? Did she run out of things to say to him? Didn't she want to talk to him anymore?

It took him a moment more to realise that, everything she wanted to say to him, she was already _saying_ to him. He was born, and she spent all day talking to him. There was no need for the letters anymore.

He was suddenly angry. And frustrated. He wanted more. He _needed_ more.

Alex shut the journal and stuffed it away, suddenly wishing that he'd never started reading it. Why would his father do this to him?

Why would his mother?

Alex stood up quite suddenly, needing to get away from this place as quickly as he could. His heart was twisted, and it was like he was feeling the grief all over again. He couldn't remember his mother but, when he was old enough to understand it; he still felt the loss.

He felt it every single day.

Alex left the graveyard feeling unexplainably angry. This journal was different to everything else of hers he'd read. This journal was _for_ him. It wasn't just the ramblings of a teenage girl, fighting a War and falling in love. No, these were letters written to him, and they were going to end.

They would come to an end and he would be forced to remember that his mother was dead, and that she'd never write another letter to him.

Suddenly, he was enraged.

He left the graveyard with a scowl on his face, loathing the injustice of it all.

He did not go home.

Alex, instead, went to the house in which he knew his grandparents died, disappeared into the basement and unleashed every single Curse and Hex he could think of. He knew it was something that his father sometimes did, and it was definitely therapeutic until he was forced to stop.

Eventually, he moved to sit down in the corner and remained perfectly still with his thoughts for goodness knows how long. He'd expelled so much magic that his body needed the time to recuperate. His anger hadn't ceased, but he had it under better control.

When he finally felt up to moving again, Alex headed home. He didn't know what it was but he had a bad feeling as he walked through the front door of the house.

There was no sound of music.

For a moment, Alex contemplated reaching for his wand but he decided against it. There was no point. He'd barely set down his shoulder bag when Kate appeared in the the entrance hall, her hands on her hips.

"Where have you been?" she asked pointedly, a frown set on her face.

"Umm..."

"It's ten o'clock, Alex."

He looked surprised. "It is?"

Kate looked far from impressed. "I called Jack. He said you left work early, and then I called Harry and Teddy and - " she paused. "Where were you?"

He swallowed. "I, uh, I went to visit my mother," he said.

She heaved out a tired sigh. "This isn't healthy, Alex," she said. "You can't keep doing this. It's tearing you apart. I mean, look at you. You're barely sleeping, barely eating, and you're - just look at you!"

He just stood and stared at her.

"Is this it?" she asked pointedly. "Is this your way of telling me that this isn't what you want?"

He frowned. "What?"

"This baby; this _life_ ," she said. "You're so busy holding onto what you missed out on, and it's hurting you. Can't you see it? Can't you see what it's doing to you?"

"What do you want from me?" he snapped. "I _have_ to finish it, Kate. I _have_ to."

"No you don't!" she hissed, her own frustration getting the better of her. "This isn't anything you _have_ to do, and you know it. You _want_ to do this. You want to go through all of it because you're so damn dissatisfied with your life!"

Alex's eyes widened. "What?"

"Are you? Are you so unhappy with what you have, that you can't let go of what you lost?" she asked, calming slightly. "I mean, why do you keep searching for more than this?" She shook her head. "And you wonder why your father thinks that you'd rather your mother was alive instead of him."

Alex felt like he'd just been slapped.

"I don't know what it's like for you. I can't even imagine, but I do know this, Alex: your mother would hate that she's haunting you like this. She would absolutely hate it and you know it."

He blinked, his mouth hanging slightly ajar.

"I get that this is something you need to work through and, by all means, do it, Alex, but stop acting like you're the only person who lost her, because you're not. You're not the only one who's tried to hold onto her and, maybe it's hard for you to see, but it's okay to let go."

"How do I let go of something I didn't even have?" he asked sharply, tears springing to his eyes. "I didn't get to _have_ her, Katie! How do I just let that go? How do I just forget that?"

"I don't know!" she spat back. "You just do, Alex."

"But _how_?"

"You're the only one who knows the answer to that," she said, calming down. "But maybe you should start by forgiving her. Forgive your mother for leaving, and forgive your father for the burden he placed on himself to make sure that he continued to give her everything she wanted long after she was gone.

"She didn't ask for this. You know she would have done everything in her power to stay. But these are the cards you've been dealt. Be the strong man your father raised you to be and grow from it."

That was all she would say. It was all she could think to say. So, giving him one last pointed, yet sympathetic look, she turned on her heel and headed up the stairs. She disappeared from sight before Alex could formulate another coherent thought.

Trust Kate to put him in his place. His mother would be proud.

Would she?

Alex sulked his way into the kitchen and scrounged for something decent to eat. He was tired and he felt defeated and, yes, he was playing the victim. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. Why couldn't she have lived long enough for him to know her?

Alex picked up some fresh clothes from the laundry room downstairs, and had a nice, long shower in the West Wing of the house. His mind was still reeling but he did feel slightly better once he was done.

Quietly, he made his way to the master bedroom. He just wanted to see her and, to his mild surprise, she wasn't asleep. He froze in the doorway for a moment, his eyes locked on hers.

Kate said nothing, which was license enough for him to know that it was safe to enter the room.

Alex slowly climbed into bed and lay perfectly still on his back, his eyes focused on the ceiling.

"Please don't be angry," he whispered.

She remained silent.

"Tonight," he added. "Don't be angry with me _tonight_. Be angry again tomorrow, but not tonight."

He heard her breathing change, and then she rolled over to look at him. "Okay," she said softly.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

He rolled over so he could look at her as well. "I love you, Katie."

"I love you too, Alex Potter." She shifted closer to him, and he automatically put his arms around her, drawing her close to his chest.

Alex closed his eyes, let out a slow, unsteady breath. Absently, he recalled reading his mother's words, and he finally understood the truth of them. He would always follow them.

 _Please never go to bed angry with anyone. N_ _ever go to bed angry. We never know what can happen._


	6. Chapter 6

**VI**

When Alex woke up on Wednesday morning, Kate was not in bed beside him. He couldn't hear the music but he had a feeling he knew exactly where she was. As a musician himself, he knew how therapeutic playing your instrument could be.

Slowly, Alex rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom. Truth be told, he had no idea what he would say to Kate when he saw her. Nothing in his head was sorted out. It felt as jumbled up as it did the previous night.

But there was one thing running through his mind; something that his mother wrote to him. Something he had to remember.

 _We honour the life we have and we don't live it halfheartedly._

Was that what Alex was doing? It was what he _wasn't_ doing.

Alex went down to the kitchen to get started on breakfast, and Kate joined him shortly after. They exchanged a quiet greeting before sitting down at the breakfast nook to eat.

It was Alex who started their conversation. "Are you still angry?" he asked.

"I don't think I ever was," she told him. "I just can't handle seeing you like this."

He sighed. "I'll stop reading it," he offered, though it burned his throat to say the words.

She looked at him. "That's not what you want," she said; "and I won't have you do something like that because you think it's what I want."

"Isn't it?"

"What I want is for it not to be such an obsession," she explained. "You said it yourself, didn't you? You want to read all of it, but you don't want it to end at the same time.

"I'm also sorry about the things I said last night," she added. "I didn't mean _all_ of them. I, just, I don't know... I wish you'd called."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

Kate finished eating, and then she returned to her practice room. Alex did the dishes, packed his things for the day, bid his wife goodbye and then went to the Academy. He made a point of leaving the journal on the desk in his practice room at home. He would deal with it when he returned from work.

That decision made for an awfully anxious day for him. All he did was think about what he would end up reading, but he was able to keep himself occupied enough to get through the day.

He was even able to remain fully present as he and Kate fixed dinner and ate together. Kate excused herself first, kissing him gently, and giving him the silent permission he sought to return to the journal.

So he did.

Alex closed himself away in his practice room, got himself comfortable and settled in to finish the journal. _Tonight_. He would finish it tonight.

 _27th November 2005_

 _Dear Alex_

 _You're getting good at this whole pulling yourself up to a standing position thing. Unfortunately, your legs aren't yet strong enough to keep you up for very long, so you're keeping me very amused._

 _I always wonder if your bottom hurts as much as I imagine it does. Thank goodness for those cushiony diapers then._

 _You also babble a lot. I think that you said your first word yesterday, but I'm not sure. It sounded a lot like 'ball' but I could be imagining things. I don't think I'll mention it to your father though, because he'll probably be so heartbroken that he missed it. Maybe you should try saying 'Da' or 'Pa' first._

 _The thing is, well, even though he's working locally; he spends a lot of time actually_ working _. He misses a lot, and it's taking its toll on him. He's convinced he's a bad father because he doesn't spend enough time with you._

 _He's not. He's a great father, and we love him even more because he wants to be better for us. I wish he'd realise that he's the best._

 _Don't you worry. I'll convince him of it._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Apparently Alex's father struggled with not being a good father long before he was forced into doing it alone. Alex, somehow, had to do carry on what his mother tried to do, and convince his father that he _was_ the best.

 _25th December 2005_

 _Dear Alex_

 _Merry Christmas, my sweet baby boy. It's our first Christmas with you and your father and I wanted it to be special for you, full of love and so much family._

 _We bought you a little Santa hat that says: 'Santa's Little Helper.' It's probably the cutest picture I have of you. Honestly. And this isn't my being biased, even though I've been known to be._

 _We just got back from the Burrow. My parents joined us for the celebrations, mainly because I wasn't feeling up to carting you between grandparents. You get fussy when we have to leave places, which is what happened today. Everybody dotes on you, you know, being the youngest addition to the extended family so far. Your Aunt Angelina is pregnant again though, so don't expect it to last forever._

 _You're too young to ask for what you want so your father and I had to guess. We mainly went for toys. He tried to convince me you were old enough for your first toy broom but, I mean, you can barely stay on your feet for more than a few seconds. Maybe for your birthday, okay? I'm just a little too protective, and I'm definitely not in a rush for you to grow up._

 _Don't you worry, though; I doubt I'll always be this way._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex couldn't actually remember his first broomstick, but he guessed that his mother might have fought his father on the matter until she had no more ammunition.

She'd probably rolled over in her grave every time he'd taken to the Quidditch pitch.

 _11th January 2006_

 _Dear Alex_

 _So, I've got something to tell you. I've decided to go back to work. I think it's time now. You're doing so well, and I'm ready to join the workforce again._

 _Don't get me wrong. I love being your mother, and spending all day every day with you. It's just that I've always felt like I'm meant for something more, and I do good work. Well, I try to do good work._

 _So I'll start again on the 16th of this month. I'm certain that Martha misses me. She's been trying to get me to come back since you were six weeks old._

 _As for you. St Mungo's has a wonderful daycare, and I'll be able to visit you whenever I want. I hope you won't hate me for this decision, but it's something I have to do. Mummy will always love you. Remember that, all right?_

 _Your father practically choked on air when I told him I was going back, but he's being very supportive. I think he's been wondering when I would go back for quite some time now, but just never brought it up. Reckon he thought I was turning into a ticking bomb again?_

 _Don't you worry. I was definitely not._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex took a breath, a small smile playing on his lips. It amazed him that she worried so much about being a bad mother. His parents were the same that way.

 _18th February 2006_

 _Dear Alex_

 _Sweetheart, why didn't you tell me that going back to work would be such a bad idea? I'm exhausted. I swear, I take my hat off to working mothers._

 _I talked to my mum about it and she just laughed at me. She's so mean to me sometimes._

 _I guess this is a lesson to me, wanting to do it all. It's taken a bit of adjusting, but I think I've got a handle on it now. I'm making sure that I keep regular hours, so you and I have a nice routine going. Your father's work is too haphazard for that. He's constantly on call because he's the best Auror that they have._

 _I mentioned to him that, once he retires, he should go to the Academy and train the incoming Aurors. If he can no longer_ be _the best, then he should train others to be the best. All he said was that he'd consider it, which is Harry-speak for 'no, but I love you too much to say so.' We'll see how he feels when he has to spend his days doing nothing._

 _It's what I've been thinking about lately. The future; when we're both old and grey, and our kids want nothing to do with us. Promise you'll still visit us? And bring the grandkids around as often as possible?_

 _Don't you worry. We'll try not to spoil them too much._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex shook his head. The future. The future she would never be a part of. The future she would never get the chance to see.

 _4th March 2006_

 _Dear Alex_

 _Happy Birthday, my little man! I can't even believe that you're already one year old. Where has all the time gone?_

 _This has been the greatest year of my life, Alex. Between you and your father; you've made my life so meaningful, and so worthy. You're proof that I was here, and you are the greatest legacy I could ever leave behind._

 _The Daily Prophet published a picture of you today. They've been trying to get one of you since you were born, constantly hounding us, so we finally decided to give them what they wanted. I was a little uncomfortable with it, but they've promised to leave us alone now. Now everyone is going to know how cute you are._

 _So we held a little party for you here at the Manor. I think that you enjoy being the centre of attention a little too much. That smile of yours is just too infectious._

 _The cake was a mess, of course. It got everywhere, as was expected. I've spent the last half hour trying to get icing out of your hair. Bath time has always been an exciting time for us. You hate when you have to get into the bath, but then you cry bloody murder when it's time to get out. You confuse me sometimes._

 _Don't you worry, though; I'm looking forward to a lifetime of confusion._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex made a mental note to find out if anyone had a copy of that issue of the paper. If his father claimed to keep things; maybe he'd kept all those papers as well.

 _1st April 2006  
_

 _Dear Alex_

 _If I didn't love your father so much, I definitely would kill him for what he did to me today. Honestly. Why oh why would he decide to bring out the Marauder in him all of a sudden?_

 _Firstly, and please never do this, he painted our soap with clear nail polish and left it in the shower._

 _Secondly, he bought me these 'cream-filled donuts,' which were actually filled with mayonnaise._

 _Thirdly, the coffee beans in our maker were switched out with pepper corns. I swear, I almost killed him. He was playing with fire at that point. I love my morning coffee._

 _And then he made sure that my office at work was completely filled with colourful balloons! It looked kind of nice, actually, but it was still extremely annoying._

 _He definitely had a little too much fun today._

 _But don't you worry. I'll get him back._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex laughed to himself. His father had played with fire, and Alex made another mental note to ask his father if she did end up retaliating in some way.

 _15th May 2006_

 _Dear Alex_

 _You're a little speed demon, you know? Mummy can't keep up with you. You just can't sit still, and it's making me a little crazy. I really miss being able to just set you down, surround you with pillows, and know that you'll stay there while I pop into the loo._

 _But no, not anymore._

 _The moment I put you down somewhere, you run off. Yes, Alex, you RUN. Maybe you'll skip out on the whole Quidditch thing and run instead. You'd be good at it, I'm sure._

 _I also haven't been feeling hundred percent the past few days. I'm not sure what it is. I don't really remember feeling this way before, so I started to think that I'd been exposed to something at work, but I've been involved only in research these past few weeks._

 _Don't you worry, sweetheart; I'm sure it's nothing._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex frowned. His mother got sick? That wasn't how he'd been told she died. He had to read on but every new word that he read merely raised his anxiety. The second he spied the date, he knew they were coming close to the end. Dangerously close.

 _1st June 2006_

 _Dear Alex_

 _Mummy has a secret to tell you. I haven't even told your father yet, so you'll be the first to know. I'm thrilled about it, and terrified at the same time. Can you guess? It's the reason I was feeling so unwell._

 _I'm pregnant! We're having another baby! You're going to be a big brother. Will you be a good big brother? I'm sure you will be._

 _I didn't want us to have our kids so close together, but this is still so amazing. I'm not sure how your father will handle the news. We're handling one of you quite well. I wonder what it will be like with two; going from outnumbering you to man-to-man._

 _Or... Could these be the twins my mum warned me about? Then we would be the ones who are outnumbered._

 _No. I don't think so. I have a feeling that we'll have a girl. She feels like a girl. I don't know what it is, but it's just something that I feel._

 _I've already been thinking about a name, but I'll definitely have to discuss it with your father. How does Charlotte Lily sound? It's a good, strong name, with good consonance._

 _We'll have to figure out a way to tell your father though. Do you think he'll cry again? I don't doubt it. I'm thinking I'll buy you an outfit that says 'World's Best Big Brother.' Yes! That's an idea. You'll be the one to tell him. It'll sound better coming from you._

 _Don't you worry. I'm sure he'll be thrilled._

 _Love,_

 _Your Mother_

Alex blinked back tears. She was pregnant. Not only had Harry lost his wife; he'd lost his unborn child as well. Oh Harry.

Alex immediately turned the page for the next letter, but the page was empty.

His heart dropped.

He'd just read the last letter.

Alex just stared at the empty pages, his heart rate rising dangerously. No. No. It couldn't be over. This couldn't be it. There had to be more. There _had_ to be. He wasn't ready for it to be over.

Knowing it would be futile, Alex started to page through the empty sheets, searching for more; _needing_ more. His heart literally stopped when he spied more writing.

Different writing.

 _5th September 2006_

 _Dear Alex_

 _It's your father here._

Alex blinked back his surprise, his heart breaking in the process. His father.

 _Something terrible happened, sweetheart._

 _I've thought hard and long about how I would tell you, and how I would explain to you how or why this happened, but I haven't yet come up with the right words. This is all so hard, and telling you is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do._

 _She's gone, Alex. Mummy's gone. I'm so sorry. I am so so sorry._

 _There was an accident. Mummy got hurt on her way to lunch with Martha and there was an accident. There was a car, Alex, and it lost control. There were no survivors. I don't have anyone to blame._

 _Martha said she didn't feel any pain at all. I want to believe it's true, because it's the only thing that can help me sleep at night. I keep thinking it's all just a bad dream; something that Voldemort thought up and is using to torture me. But it's not. I'm forced to remember that it's not._

 _On 18 June 2006, Hermione Jean Potter stepped out into the world for the last time._

 _I never got to kiss her goodbye._

 _This was never supposed to happen, sweetheart. This was never how it was supposed to be for us. We had our entire lives planned. We had so much life to live._

 _I am so sorry._

Alex spied an old teardrop on the page, smudging the ink, and his breath got stuck in his throat.

 _I loved her so much that I don't even know how to explain to you just how much. We were supposed to have forever. We fought so hard for a forever, and I feel robbed. We were both robbed of such a wonderful, loving, devoted woman, who's greatest fault was probably choosing to love someone like me._

 _I loved her so much that I hate her for leaving me when she did; for leaving_ us _the way she did._

 _I don't know how to do this. How am I supposed to do this all without her? I don't know how to live without her._

 _But I'm going to have to figure it out. For you. She'd want you to live a full and happy life, and I intend to give her everything she wanted._

 _I didn't know how scared she was of the work I did. I didn't know how much she missed me when I was gone. I had an idea, but never this. If I'd known, I would have quit it all. Her happiness has always been the most important thing to me._

 _It still is. Which is why I intend to make sure that I carry out everything she's ever wanted for you. You are going to live a happy life, my sweet boy. I promise to do all I can to be the best father I can be. A father you can be proud of._

 _You are so loved, Alex. Please, what ever I do; however I might fail you - which I'll undoubtedly do, because I'm not perfect - always remember this. You are loved._

 _Your mother loved you very much, and please never blame her for leaving us. If she had the choice, she would have stayed. It's taken me a while to come to terms with that, and I suspect you'll struggle with it as well, but we have to forgive her. Love her, and honour her without stopping to live our own lives._

 _I'll always be here for you. I'll do everything in my power to insure that you do not end up an orphan. It is the last thing I want for you. Believe me._

 _Don't you worry, my dear Alex; Daddy will take care of you._

 _Love,_

 _Your Father_

Alex had cried from the letters before, but he was positively sobbing now. His entire body was shaking from the intensity of his emotions. It took almost five minutes for him to calm down.

It hurt. _He_ hurt.

And, as Alex sat there, it started to come to him. It was only a few lines at first, but it was so dominant in his mind that he jumped up and practically leapt to the piano. He had to play it; he had to _hear_ it.

It was beautiful and perfect, and it was not inspired by his unborn baby. Nor by his mother.

It was inspired by his father. By his father's _heart_.

He remembered his comment earlier in the week, and he hated himself for it. _What heart?_ How could he have ever thought that his father didn't care?

Harry's heart was _red and_ gold, and Alex wanted the entire world to know it.

Alex played the few lines in his head a few times over, adjusting a few notes, before he made sure to get it all written down. And, the moment his pencil started on the paper, more and more of it came to him.

Part of Alex's process was that he started with the base as the piano, and then worked his way through the strings all the way through the orchestra to the brass instruments.

He couldn't stop.

When Kate found him in the morning, he was sprawled out on his floor, dozens of sheets of music surrounding him. It wasn't the first time she'd found him like this, but it was the first time since she'd told him about the baby.

"Alex?" she called lightly, breaking into the little world he'd made for himself.

He looked up suddenly, his eyes red from the intensity of his concentration and his obvious lack of sleep. "Hey you," he croaked as he rolled over and sat up.

"You look inspired," she commented.

"I am."

"The baby?"

He shook his head.

"Your mum?"

He shook his head again. "Harry."

She smiled. "Can I hear some?"

He immediately stood up and moved towards her. He kissed her cheek, took hold of her hand and led her towards the piano. "I was hit with the bridge first," he explained. "I read the last letter, and I just, I had to play."

Kate sat down beside him at the piano and waited for him to continue.

"My dad wrote the last letter," he said. "After she was gone. He found the journal, and he wrote the last letter to me, and he promised to do all that he could to make sure I grew up the way she wanted; the way she would be proud of. Even when she was gone, he still did everything she wanted.

"Everything."

And then he started to play.

To Kate, it sounded like magic. It _felt_ like magic. And, really, it felt like Harry as well.

When he stopped quite suddenly, he frowned. "I'm still working on it though. The climax of it all doesn't seem to want to end. I don't know how to bring it back down."

Kate couldn't help her smile. He didn't even know how much meaning that sentence held.

"It's perfect, Alex," Kate said. "And don't you worry. It will come to you."

His eyes snapped towards her. "What did you say?"

She leaned back slightly. "What?"

He blinked. "Nothing. Sorry. I'm just tired."

She put a hand on his back. "Maybe you should get some rest," she offered. "Are you going in today?"

He sighed. "I think I'll stay home. I'm sure Jack will be keen to know that I've come up with something."

"You intend to use this piece in the concert?"

He nodded.

"Well, I think it's wonderful," she said, her hand moving to run through his hair. "But maybe you should, you know, get it written down properly."

"What?"

She gestured to the mess in the room. "It's like a tornado hit this room."

"It's part of my artistic process."

She kissed his cheek. "I'm going to make breakfast, all right?"

Alex just nodded, and then watched her leave the room. For a moment, he didn't move. So much had happened in these few days. He'd learned so much about his parents; it was all still so overwhelming.

After they'd eaten, Alex went up to their bedroom to shower and catch a nap. When he woke up, he did as Kate instructed and proceeded to write out all the music as clearly as he could. It wasn't a particularly long piece, close to half an hour long. He spent quite a bit of time working on where the percussion instruments fit in.

With the part that he was struggling with, Alex reread the letter his father wrote. The entire piece came together shortly after that. It wasn't perfect yet. Alex was sure he would end up changing things when it came to rehearsals.

When he was done, Alex packed the sheet music in his shoulder bag, made himself a sandwich - just to appease his wife - and then made his way to the Academy. He had to give the music to Jack right away. It felt good to be excited about it once more.

It was already after five o'clock by the time Alex arrived, but he found Jack in his office. Jack looked surprised to see him, which quickly faded away when Alex handed over the music.

Between the two of them, they worked out the logistics of the piece until Alex's fingers were black from the graphite of his pencil.

"I think this is your best work, Alex," Jack commented, looking through the sheets one last time.

"Really?"

Jack nodded. "The best," he repeated. "But, does it have a name?"

"Yes, yes it does." Alex reached across the desk and took the front sheet from Jack. He scribbled the name on the top of the page and handed it back.

Jack regarded it for a moment before he looked at Alex. "You're sure?"

He nodded. "Positive."

"All right then," he said. "I'll have Sal type it up, and you'll proof. It should be ready in time to play in the concert."

Alex just nodded before he stood up. He felt calmer than he'd felt in days. His mind was clear and there didn't feel like something heavy was pressing down on him anymore.

Alex arrived at Potter Manor quite late, and he worried if Kate would be as irritated with him as she was the night before. He followed the sounds towards the kitchen but, as soon as he opened the door to the kitchen, he froze.

"Dad!" Alex exclaimed.

Harry was standing over the stove, a metal spoon held in his hand. "Oh, hey, kiddo," he said, grinning at his son.

"What are you doing here?" Alex asked, frowning.

"I told you he forgot," another voice said.

Alex watched his wife emerge from the pantry, a tray of eggs in her hands.

"It's Thursday, Alex," Kate said.

He blinked. "Thursday...?"

Harry glanced at Kate. "Wait for it..."

Kate caught the moment that Alex remembered why his father would be here tonight and she couldn't help her laugh.

"Oh! Dinner!" Alex's eyes widened. "I'm so late, aren't I?"

"That's all right," Harry said, shrugging. "Katherine and I usually have a better time without you anyway."

Alex laughed. He actually laughed out loud, which made his wife and father exchange a worried look.

"Alex?" Harry asked, looking worried. "Is everything all right?"

He stopped laughing quite suddenly. "Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I talk to you?" he asked quietly.

Harry glanced at Kate for a moment, before he nodded at his son. "Umm, Katie, do you mind watching the stove?"

"I think I can handle it," she said, ushering him away.

Harry gave her a small smile before he followed his son out of the kitchen and all the way to the practice room. It had taken Harry almost a year after Hermione's death to work up the courage to enter it, and he couldn't hold back his gasp at the sight of the piano.

Alex looked at his father, worry in his eyes. "We can go somewhere else," he offered.

"No," Harry said, letting out a brief chuckle. "Just haven't seen it in a while. How's it treating you?"

"Well," Alex said. "Very well, actually."

"That's good," Harry commented, moving towards the couch and sitting down. "So, you wanted to talk?"

"I suspect Kate's talked to you already?"

"She may have mentioned a few things," Harry said casually.

Alex moved towards his small desk and retrieved the journal. "I finished reading it," he said, holding it up. "All of it."

"Oh?"

Alex moved to sit down on the other end of the couch. "You never told me about Charlotte," he said gently.

Harry wrung his hands together. "I didn't know until I read that," he confessed, breaking Alex's heart once more. "I didn't know a lot of things apparently."

Alex remained silent as he tried to gather his thoughts. Then: "Was it everything you ever wanted?"

"What?"

"Your life?"

"What I wanted and what I got were two very different things," he said. "I'm not ashamed to admit that. But what I do know is that the things that happen to us shape us in ways we'll never truly understand or appreciate.

"Am I happy with my life as it is? Most of the time, yes, I suppose I am. Many people have been taken from me but, every day, I thank my lucky stars that you were never one of them. That's all I can do to keep going."

Alex took a deep breath. "You were wrong, by the way."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "About what? Because I've been known to be wrong about quite a few things in my lifetime."

"I don't wish she were here _instead_ of you," Alex said seriously. "I won't lie and say that I've _never_ thought it, but I don't think it now. I don't think I ever will again."

Harry just stared at his son with wide, green eyes.

"I hate that you think it, Dad," Alex continued. "You are a great father. I admit that you're not perfect. Who is? What I do know is that you did all you could to raise me right and I hope that I make you proud."

"You do."

Alex offered him an appreciative smile. "So I want you to know that I definitely don't think it, and I think you should stop thinking it too. I know you've tortured yourself with this but I think I understand her a little better now and I can tell you this: she wouldn't want to be here _instead_ of you either."

Harry blinked.

"She'd hate life without you, and she'd probably torture herself more than you have. She'd spend her days alone, dedicating her time and life everyone but herself."

Harry's eyes widened. "What? I wouldn't want that for her."

"You wouldn't?"

Harry paused, and then his face broke out into a smile. "Ah, I see what you did there."

Alex laughed lightly.

"I'm not _un_ happy, Alex."

"I know," he said, his smile falling way. "I just wish you were _happy_."

Harry waited a beat before he responded. "This is a different kind of happy," he said. "Not the same as the happiness I had with your mother, but I've never regretted anything I've done that came after she was gone."

"I know."

"Good."

Alex smiled, signifying the end of all that morbid talk. "I wrote a new piece last night. Do you want to hear it?"

"Of course."

Alex stood up and moved towards the piano. He could feel his father's eyes on him as he sat down and lifted his hands. From the moment that Alex started to play, his father attended every recital and every concert.

"What's it called?" Harry asked.

Alex smiled at him. "It's called _Harry's Heart_." And then he started to play, saving his father from a response.

As Alex played and reached some place in the middle, he became aware of his father standing up and coming to stand behind him. He felt Harry's hands on his shoulder, and then a kiss on the top of his head.

"It's beautiful, Alex. Thank you," Harry whispered, and Alex could hear the tears in his voice. "I think I'm going to help Katherine with dinner."

Alex knew that his father just didn't want Alex to see him cry. Alex understood it. There were still so many things he didn't know about Harry Potter but, somehow, through the help of his mother, Alex felt like he finally understood him.

He continued to play for a few minutes before he drew the piece to a premature end, his own eyes misting up. It really was some of his best work, even if he was convinced his best work was yet to come.

Alex sat in silence for a moment, before he made an important decision. In the next moment, he rose to his feet and crossed the room. He reached for one of the empty journals he kept in a pile on one of the shelves against the far wall. It was red in colour, with touches of gold, and it was perfect for this purpose.

He located a pen, moved to sit down at his desk, opened the journal, and proceeded to write.

 _2nd June 2032_

 _Dear Baby Potter_

Alex paused to think. He wasn't yet sure what exactly he was going to say in this first letter yet, but he did know how he was going to end it; how he would _always_ end it.

 _Don't you worry._

 _Fin_


End file.
